


Going, Going, Gone

by onlyastoryteller



Series: Going, Going, Gone [1]
Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Date Auction, M/M, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-05-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23113090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onlyastoryteller/pseuds/onlyastoryteller
Summary: There's a charity date auction. Tim didn't mean to do it, really he didn't.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Series: Going, Going, Gone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1920328
Comments: 416
Kudos: 652





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _whispers "I'm sorry" about all the WIPs but seriously I just have to write what I can when I can and this is what I could_
> 
> I went to work on something today and stumbled across this fic that I had begun a while ago. I was suddenly very clear on what it was about, and so... _tosses it into the void and prays for forgiveness._

Tim didn’t really _mean_ to do it. Definitely not. 

Look, it had maybe crossed his mind at some point. Sure. Anyone would have thought of it, a little, in his position. Wondered what might happen. Entertained a fantasy or two. 

But until he was digging his fingers into Julia’s arm and hissing in her ear — _go as high as you need to, please do this for me, I swear I’m good for it, I’ll find you afterwards_ — and then backing away into the crowd, he hadn’t actually planned on it. 

He had just gone a little crazy for a second, watching all those women raising their little blue paddles and shouting out ludicrous dollar amounts. He had lost his mind, seeing Armie stand on the stage, looking like fairytale royalty in his tuxedo, perfectly coiffed, white teeth gleaming in the spotlight. 

For one brief moment in time, he hadn’t been able to take it any longer, the idea of this man with anyone else, even for such an innocent thing like a charity auction date. 

And now, he sat here, on a velvet-cushioned loveseat in this little room off the banquet hall, his stomach twisted up in knots and sweat beading on his forehead, wondering what the hell he had done. 

Well, he _knew_ what he had done. He just wasn’t sure what was going to happen next. 

His company had set up this auction as a way to amplify their goodwill in the community. A large corporate law firm sometimes needed that to soften its well-earned reputation of being ruthless and cunning on behalf of its clients. It had been sold as a fun evening, all for a good cause, and the entire firm and their client roster had been invited to attend and bring their wallets. All proceeds would be donated to the LGBT Center of New York to show the firm was not only generous but also liberal and progressive.

But the “bachelors” and “bachelorettes” were not the only thing on the menu, and that was what seemed to draw the crowd — and the high dollar bids. Each of the dates being auctioned was a date package: the winner got the company of one of the firm’s attorneys or celebrity clients, as well as an evening or, in some cases, a weekend, of high-class fun. Available date adventures ranged from chef’s table dinners at some of the city’s most exclusive restaurants to an entire weekend at a New Hampshire ski resort.

Tim had watched the entire hoopla unfold for months from his office on the forty-ninth floor, paying very little attention as he kept his head down and worked his cases until his brain ached from effort. He had been at it for seven years, working his way up from a junior to a senior associate, and partnership was just over the next hill. He knew he could get there, as long as he didn’t let himself get distracted. He was very good at eliminating distractions from his life. Hobbies were a distraction. Recreation was a distraction. Eating was a distraction. Romance was a distraction.

The auction would be a distraction.

He was almost successful in ignoring the entire thing, until two days before the event. He was on his way to the kitchen to rinse out his protein shake thermos when he overheard a conversation that made him run into the wall. Thankfully, no one had seen him lose all mental faculties the moment the words _Armie Hammer just volunteered to be auctioned off_ had reached his ears.

He had immediately purchased a ticket to the auction, cajoled his assistant to accompany him — “I don’t have time to find a date. I don’t have any idea where to even look for one,” he had explained, giving her a toothy grin that he knew she couldn’t resist — and picked out a new suit. He had gone to the salon, had his hair trimmed, gotten a manicure. He had bought new shoes.

He wasn’t even sure _why_ he was bothering. Sure, he had a little crush. Had _had_ a crush since his fucking interview with Locke & Steel — now Locke, Steel & Hammer — eight years ago. From the moment Tim had entered the large office on the sixtieth floor, from the second Armie rose from his chair and smiled, from the first slide of their palms in handshake...well. 

It wasn’t like anything would come of it. Armie Hammer was the epitome of unattainable: a firm equity partner, famous in the local legal community, a physique like a Greek god, and he wasn’t gay. He probably had no idea Tim even existed, not really, not beyond his general status as an associate. They hadn’t spoken since his interview, not even a _hello_ or _nice to see you_ at firm functions. They didn't work on the same floor, or in the same practice group; there was really no reason for them to interact. So Tim had watched, from afar, trying not to be obvious about it, whenever Armie was in the vicinity. He had long ago surrendered to the idea that he would always watch from afar.

So tonight, he had just wanted to see. To be there when Armie walked out on stage, to be able to really watch him for once without having to hide it. To experience the _idea_ of bidding on him. But he hadn’t intended to actually _purchase_ Armie. Truly. That hadn’t been his intention at all. 

Yet...here he was.

After Julia had successfully won the bid on Armie — and he’d have to dip into his savings to settle this up, but that was okay — she had handed him her paddle and told him to go make the arrangements with the auction managers. He had approached the desk with caution, scanning the area for Armie, but didn’t see him. They had whisked him away backstage as the next “bachelor” was brought out.

It was a simple matter to hand over his gold card, and when the charge went through, a smiling blonde with a clipboard took his elbow and led him to the side.

“You’ll meet your date in a few minutes,” she had said brightly. “We’ll give you two a little privacy to meet and greet. He’ll have all of the information you need for your adventure, and you two can discuss the specifics.”

Tim nodded, his stomach in knots. He wondered what the date adventure would be. It hadn’t even occurred to him to check ahead of time, and he definitely hadn’t been paying attention when the auctioneer was announcing it, not with Armie looking...like Armie, in the spotlight. He hoped that it would be something simple, like dinner. Or maybe a night at the theater, where he wouldn’t have to be interesting, which he was not. With these thoughts tumbling around in his brain, he followed the blonde into the side room. She told him to have a seat, smiled one last time, and left.

Now, he rubbed his hands together and concentrated on taking slow, even breaths. He was feeling a little lightheaded, and the last thing he needed was to faint. Armie would walk in, find him sprawled on the floor, and it would be mortifying.

Of course, it might be mortifying anyway. What if Armie wanted to know _why_ Tim had bid on him? What was he going to say? He couldn’t very well say, _Yeah so the thing is, I have a crush on you_. He racked his brain, and eventually landed on a plausible excuse: Armie was an equity partner, Tim was a senior associate. He could say he wanted some mentoring, a little time to make an impression.

Plausible, not too embarrassing. Ambitious, even.

Just as Tim had settled on his excuses, there was a knock on the door. Tim’s head snapped up. Then the door swung open, and Armie strode in, a broad smile on his gorgeous face.

As soon as he saw Tim, the smile disappeared, his lips falling into a slack, straight line.

 _Shit_ , Tim thought, his stomach sinking to his knees. He hadn’t meant to fuck things up, but it looked like that was exactly what he had done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, crap,_ Tim thought. What the hell had he bid on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to go to sleep and I did this instead. When it's there, it's just...there. Enjoy!

Armie stood in front of Tim, his face impassive, as beautiful as ever. Something inside Tim shivered. Armie just had that effect on him, with his ocean-blue eyes, his strong jaw, his long fucking legs...the man was sex personified. 

And now he was frowning slightly. Tim swallowed. He knew he was in trouble. Maybe he’d even get fired. God, he hoped he wouldn’t get fired.

He stood, and forced himself to smile at Armie, though his upper lip was trembling.

“Hi,” he managed. It sounded okay, if a little sheepish.

Armie stared at him a second, blinking. Then he smiled back. It wasn’t the broad, open smile of his entrance, more of a cautious, pleasant _I’m making nice here_ look. Tim’s stomach sank further. He had made a huge mistake.

“Hi,” Armie said. “This is a...surprise. I swear the winning bidder was a curvy blonde of the female persuasion. You are none of those things.”

“Uh, yeah,” Tim said, trying a little laugh that sounded less like a laugh and more like the words _ha ha_ , spoken without humor. “That was my assistant.”

Understanding flicked through Armie’s eyes. “Ah. I thought she looked familiar.”

They watched each other a moment, and then Tim held out his hand. “Well anyway, I’m—”

“I know who you are,” Armie said. But he grasped Tim’s hand anyway. “Chalamet, right? Commercial litigation.”

“Yeah. Yes,” Tim sputtered. Armie _did_ know who he was. At least by sight. That was...something. Armie’s palm warm and firm against Tim’s own, his smile broadening into something genuine. Just like that day eight years earlier, Tim felt a zing of excitement at the touch. He quickly released Armie’s hand. “I bet you’re wondering why I bid on you.”

There was a pause, and then Armie shrugged casually. “I assume you wanted the date,” he said.

Tim froze. Had he been obvious? Did Armie know that he fantasized about kissing him, shoving him up against a door, climbing his tall frame?

“The trip,” Armie clarified, when Tim didn’t answer. “You wanted the trip, right?”

_Trip? Oh, crap_ , Tim thought. What the hell had he bid on? A trip? He couldn’t really admit he didn’t _know_ what the date was, otherwise Armie would realize the bidding was about him.

“Right, yeah,” Tim said. “The trip.”

Armie produced a manila envelope that had been tucked under his left arm and offered it to Tim. “Here are all the details,” he said. “Including a list of gear and clothing you might need, and suggestions for in-town shops where you can get anything you don’t have. We can leave from the office Friday. The flight is at four, so I’ll swing by and grab you right after lunch, and we can head out.”

Tim took the envelope, processing the information. Armie was taking him on some kind of a trip. A whole trip. A spike of adrenaline hit him at the idea of spending several _days_ with this man. Then reality set in. He couldn’t go on a trip with Armie. There was no way. He’d annoy Armie, and that would be bad for his career. Also, being in close quarters with him for an extended period increased the likelihood he would slip up, and Armie would find out about his crush, and that would be...awful.

He shook his head. “No, wait. This coming Friday?”

“Yeah,” Armie said. “The itinerary is in there.”

“But I can’t — I didn’t realize it was this weekend. It’s Wednesday, that’s two days away. I can’t go this weekend,” Tim said.

Armie frowned, a cloud forming in his eyes. “You can’t move whatever obligations you have? The trip is booked for this weekend because of the holiday on Monday.”

“Well, I…” Tim searched for something to say. “I have to work,” he said at last, waving his hand around helplessly.

The cloud on Armie’s face cleared away. “Oh,” he said, folding his arms across his broad chest. “Well, we might be able to work that out. What have you got on your plate?”

“Um...the Montgomery settlement,” Tim said. “That’s next Wednesday, and I—”

“You’re prepared for that already,” Armie said.

Tim closed his mouth, then opened it again. “What?”

Armie waved a hand impatiently. “You’re prepared. I saw the work-up you did. You know what your leverages are, you’ve got the clearance from the client on a maximum value. You’re prepared. What else?”

“Well, there’s a motion to compel hearing on Tuesday for Forsythe,” Tim said.

With a raised brow, Armie said, “Tell me a seventh-year associate is not arguing a motion to compel.”

“No, but Stacy White is, and she’s my responsibility, so I figured I would need to be available.”

“Sure,” Armie replied. “But it’s her motion. Do you trust her to prepare it well?”

“Of course,” Tim said. “Or else I wouldn’t have given it to her.”

Armie nodded. “So you should let her do it. You’ll be back on Tuesday morning in case she needs you. Next?”

Tim tried to remember what else he was working on. “Oh,” he said, “I’ve got briefing due on Tuesday on the Wolf & Williams matter. It’s going to take me all weekend to work up a draft because the facts are so complex.”

After a pause, during which Armie appeared deep in thought, he said, “How important is this case to you?”

“Well, it’s a two-hundred-fifty million dollar damages claim,” Tim began. “So the company—”

“No,” Armie said, cutting him off with a raised finger. Tim fell silent. “Not to the company. How important is the case to _you_? Is it unique in some way? Will it raise your profile?”

Tim was about to say yes, but then found himself shaking his head. “Not really,” he said. “It’s just a breach of contract claim. It’s the choice of law issue that’s going to be the real beast.”

“Good.” Armie pulled his phone out of his breast pocket and tapped on it before placing it to his ear. “Sam,” he said, “I’ve got a gift for you. You’ve been looking to do some more briefing recently, right? How do you feel about breach of contract? Writing a motion for…” Armie waved his hand at Tim.

“Summary judgment,” Tim said softly.

“For summary judgment,” Armie finished. “Breach of contract with a complex choice of law issue and lots of facts and documents.” He grinned. “Perfect. Timothée Chalamet will be calling you about it tomorrow. It’s due Tuesday.”

He placed the phone back in his pocket, and gave Tim a satisfied smile. _He can pronounce my first name properly_ , Tim thought wildly.

“Done,” Armie said. “Anything else I can pawn off on someone for you?”

Tim stared at Armie. “No,” he said finally. “I guess not.”

“So we’re on, then?” Armie asked. “We’ll head out around one-thirty on Friday?”

_Fuck_ , Tim thought. He was going on a trip with Armie Hammer. His heart pounding and his stomach churning in anticipation, he nodded.

“I guess so,” he said.

Armie reached out and clapped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. “It’ll be fun. I do these trips at least once a year, and there’s nothing better to reset your body and your mind. You ever been?”

Tim shook his head dumbly. He couldn’t very well say yes, when he didn’t know what the trip _was_.

“Well, you’ll love it. You work out, right? You’ve got a membership to the gym in the lobby.”

Tim did work out. Every morning, before work, he ran twenty minutes on the treadmill. Three nights a week, he did a thirty-minute strength-training circuit. It was part of his routine. Tim liked routines.

But how did _Armie Hammer_ know he had a membership to the gym? Tim was pretty sure he’d never seen Armie there. He would have remembered _that_. Trying not to drool at the idea of watching Armie use the leg press machine, he nodded in answer to the man’s question.

“I do,” he said.

“Perfect,” Armie replied. “Listen, I’ve got a breakfast meeting with a client tomorrow morning, so I’ve got to head out. Friday?”

“Friday,” Tim managed.

Armie gave his shoulder one last squeeze and then was gone, leaving Tim feeling out of breath and unsteady on his feet. He sank onto the loveseat once more and stared at the wall for a few minutes. Then he looked down and saw the manila envelope clutched in his hands.

He opened it quickly, suddenly needing to know exactly what he had gotten himself into. He tipped the envelope upside down and a sheaf of papers fell into his hand. He straightened them and examined the one on top.

_Cycle It! Backcountry Bike Tours In Scenic Maine_ , it read.

His jaw dropped. A _bike_ tour? With Armie? Riding a bike behind Armie for an entire weekend, watching his legs pump the pedals and his ass flex in tight bike shorts...if he wore tight bike shorts...which he probably did, since this seemed to be a favorite activity.

Tim lowered his forehead to his palm. Yup, he was doomed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim spent the majority of the next couple of days feeling sick to his stomach and trying to come up with ways to back out of the date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy isolation, y'all.
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.

Tim spent the majority of the next couple of days feeling sick to his stomach and trying to come up with ways to back out of the date.

On the one hand, he really wanted — _really, really wanted_ — to spend some time with Armie. He needed to have free rein to look at him, to talk to him, to learn more about him. He craved the sound of his voice, which he had always listened for in the halls but heard all too rarely. In his simplest fantasies, they’d become friends. In his more embarrassing ones, Armie would be a demanding, insatiable lover. In his deepest, darkest dreams...well, it was enough to say there were promises of forever involved.

He was aware that all that was ridiculous. He barely knew the guy, and even a friendship was unlikely. Armie wasn’t “friends” with associates, or even the other partners, everyone knew that. For all Tim knew, Armie didn’t have actual friends at all. He was focused and driven. His incredible talent and work ethic had turned him into one of the youngest equity partners in the entire city.

Tim admired that. Strove for that sort of path himself. They were similar, in that way.

So maybe, through this, he could earn the man’s respect. That would be enough. To know that Armie thought of him as someone worthy, as a colleague with promise, that would be amazing. To know that Armie _thought of him_ , full stop...even that sent a thrill down Tim’s spine.

Those thoughts were what propelled him through Thursday and into Friday. He left early from the office on Thursday and went shopping, spending too much money on clothing suitable for biking. He also picked up gear: a fancy hydration backpack, a helmet, a first aid kit.

He packed his bag, spending far too much time trying on outfits and taking selfies in the mirror. He placed a suit in the bag, and then removed it. Replaced it and removed it again. For god’s sake, they weren’t going to be eating in five-star restaurants, they were biking on backcountry trails and staying in “efficiency cabins” along the route. Then again, Friday night was a hotel stay. They might go out to a restaurant that night.

As a compromise, he packed a pair of black pants and a green shirt that he really liked. It was casual, but nice enough as a “just in case” outfit.

On Friday, he couldn’t eat lunch. He had been useless all morning, in fact, jumping every time the phone rang, answering emails with curt replies, tapping his foot against the side of the desk so hard it created jerky points in his normally smooth handwriting.

Finally, he changed out of his suit and into more casual clothes for traveling, and returned to his office to clear things up before leaving. As the minutes ticked by, his stomach began to churn and he felt like he was going to vibrate his way into another plane of existence. The panic he had managed to stave off for the past couple of days hit him all at once.

This was a mistake. He needed to find a way out of it before he got himself fired.

He was racking his brain for some excuse — any excuse — to cancel when there was a knock on the door. Tim’s head snapped up. Armie was standing in the doorway, a duffle slung across his chest and a grin on his face.

_Shit. He looks so good_.

All other thoughts in Tim’s head fled. Armie had changed into casual clothes as well. Tim had never seen him in anything but a suit, and the sight of this man in snug jeans and a blue t-shirt was enough to derail anything else on his mind. He looked...softer. Like his sharp edges were fuzzed out slightly, and the effect was intense.

“Ready?” Armie asked. “The car is downstairs.”

Tim hesitated, his mouth dry. It was now or never. He could say _yes, I’m ready_ and walk out the door with the man he had been obsessing over for eight fucking _years_ , or he could cancel.

He chose the route that wouldn’t get him fired when he inevitably let slip that he had a thing for his boss.

“Uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was thinking about it, and I’m not sure it’s a good idea for me to leave for the weekend. Just...my cases are so active, and it would be irresponsible.”

Armie’s smile faded into a small frown. He looked at Tim searchingly a moment. Tim thought he might once again offer to sort the problem, find people to step in. But instead, a new smile formed, one that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Listen,” Armie said, “If you think that’s best, I understand. You don’t have to...we don’t have to go.”

The mixture of relief and disappointment that swirled around in Tim’s chest was overwhelming. If he hadn’t still been sitting down, he would have sunk back into his chair, because he felt lightheaded.

Armie rubbed his forehead and then ran a hand through his hair. “I’ll cover the donation, so you’ll get a refund. Just give me a few days to arrange it.” 

“What?” Tim asked. “You don’t have to do that.”

“You’re not getting what you paid for,” Armie said, with a shrug. “It’s fine. I don’t mind. Or...is it me? Would you rather go with someone else? I can probably swing that but we’d have to rebook the plane tickets so I’ll need to know now.”

Tim’s breath caught at the look on Armie’s face as he spoke that last part. Armie actually thought Tim didn’t want to go because _Armie_ was part of the package. He shook his head frantically, unable to find the words to protest.

“Okay. Then I’ll get out of your way, let you get back to work,” Armie said quietly.

He turned to leave, and Tim stood. “Wait,” he said. Armie stopped, looked over his shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“I mean...I guess maybe we can go. I was just being...I can afford to take a couple of days away. If you can, I can, right?” Tim held his breath. Suddenly, he knew they _had_ to go. If they didn’t, he’d regret it forever. He couldn’t let Armie walk away thinking Tim didn’t want to go because of _him_.

Armie peered at him. “Are you sure?” he asked. “Like I said, you don’t have to. I can understand if taking a weekend like this with someone you don’t really know would be uncomfortable. I should have thought about—”

“No,” Tim said. “No, I’m not uncomfortable. I’m just used to working all the time, and it feels strange to be planning to _not_ work. That’s all, I was just...we should go. I want to go.”

“I know what you mean, about working,” Armie said. His face relaxed again. “Well, if you want to go, then...come on.” 

He waited for Tim to shut down his computer and grab his things, and then led the way down the hall to the elevator. Tim tried to think of something to say as the elevator doors slid closed and the car began its descent. His mind was blank, focused only on how close Armie was standing. Armie also said nothing. They didn’t speak again until they had made it all the way down to street and had reached the car that would bring them to the airport. 

While the driver was depositing their bags in the trunk, Armie reached out and opened the rear passenger door. “In you go,” he said, waving his hand.

Tim slid by him and climbed in, scooting over to the far side. Armie folded himself into the seat beside Tim and closed the door. There was a moment of quiet, during which Tim busied himself buckling his belt and trying not to stare at Armie’s profile beside him. Then Armie let out a sigh.

A quick glance to his right revealed that Armie was looking pensively out the window.

“What’s the matter?” Tim found himself asking, before he could help it.

“Oh. Nothing,” Armie said. “I just hit that moment where I was able to shut it all off.”

“Shut what off?”

“ _It_.” Armie waved his hands in the direction of the office building where they both spent the vast majority of their waking hours. “All of that. It doesn’t happen often, that I can get away. So when I can...I try to get away completely.” He paused. “Do you ever—” 

The driver entered the car then, and Armie stopped talking abruptly. The silence continued all the way to the airport. Tim didn’t have the foggiest idea what to say. He wanted to ask Armie a million questions about himself, but between his own desire to keep his interest hidden, his fear that he would annoy Armie, and having the driver as an audience, he felt it best to follow Armie’s lead and not talk at all.

They opted to carry their bags on the flight, so went directly to security. Tim followed Armie, and despite the long weekend crowds, twenty minutes later — thanks to their expedited ticket status — they were settled in chairs in the first class lounge. Armie eyed the bar. 

“You want something to drink?” he asked. “I think I’m going to grab a scotch.”

“Uh, sure. Same,” Tim said.

Armie nodded and rose. Tim watched him stride to the bar, his long legs eating up the ground effortlessly. He leaned on the bar, made small talk with the bartender, and a couple of minutes later was back.

“Here you go,” Armie said. As he passed the glass to Tim, their fingers brushed, and Tim shivered. “All good?” Armie asked, giving him a look.

“Fine,” Tim said. He took a quick swallow of the amber liquid, hoping it would ease some of his nerves, and tried to think.

So his objective on this trip was to impress Armie. Armie wasn’t going to be impressed with him if he was jumping out of his skin every five minutes. Tim frowned into his drink, feeling frustrated with himself. That nervous, uncertain guy who stumbled over his words and gave “awkward” a new meaning? That guy didn’t exist anymore. He had been buried sometime during law school, when Tim had found that he did, in fact, have a voice and was able to use it. He may have been a wreck as a teen, but now he was confident, collected, and charming. He had proven that time and again. 

It would just figure that being around Armie would suddenly erase years of progress and growth. 

He could do this. He searched for something to talk about. Anything that would make him seem intelligent and interesting and _not_ reveal that he spent way too many hours thinking about what the skin on Armie’s neck tasted like—

“Have you ever been mountain-biking before?” Armie asked, startling Tim out of his thoughts.

“Yeah. Not...not recently. But a long time ago, back in college, I used to bike.” It wasn’t really a lie. He had dated a guy once who was really outdoorsy, and who had dragged Tim on all sorts of adventures. He wasn’t especially _good_ at any of them, but he could manage. He hoped that was still true. “You do this regularly?”

“Not as much as I’d like,” Armie said, swirling his scotch around in his glass. “A few times a year, if I can manage it.”

“It’s funny,” Tim began, and then he stopped, unsure if what he had been about to say was rude.

Armie glanced at him. “What’s funny?” 

“Oh, I just…” _What the hell_ , Tim thought. “I guess I never pictured you doing extreme sports in the great outdoors.”

“Well, I wouldn’t call this extreme,” Armie said. “We aren’t going to actually be barreling down mountains. It’s more level riding on rough terrain.” He took another sip of his scotch, and then raised a brow at Tim. “Out of curiosity, how _did_ you picture me?”

Tim immediately blushed. They were barely an hour into the weekend, and he had already put his foot in his mouth. He had just admitted that he had thought about Armie, and what he would be like out of the office. Damn it. 

He bought a few seconds by shrugging and nursing his drink. 

“Let me guess,” Armie said, when Tim took too long to answer. “you probably think I spend my time outside of the office golfing or at cigar bars.”

“You don’t golf?” Tim asked, dodging answering the question head on. 

Armie rolled his eyes. “I do, actually. But more as a business strategy than for enjoyment. You?"

“Same,” Tim said. 

The loudspeaker announced the boarding of their flight. Tossing back the rest of his drink, Armie rose from his chair. “Let’s go.”

They were able to board with no problem, except for the fact that Tim took one look at the size of the plane and nearly vomited. He’d always been a nervous flyer, but had gotten control of it over the years. Still, small planes kicked his phobia into high gear. 

He tried not to think about it as he stowed his things and settled into his seat by the window, with Armie next to him on the aisle. He buckled his belt and set his book in his lap and lifted the window shade so he could see outside. When the taxiing began he’d close it, and his eyes, and practice circular breathing. Once they got into the air he’d be fine. Until then, he just had to hang on. 

“You don’t like flying?” 

Tim whipped around to see Armie watching him with concern. 

“No, I...how did you know?” Tim asked. 

He jumped when a hand settled on his knee. Armie’s hand, so large it covered his entire lower thigh. As soon as it landed, Tim realized he had been jiggling his leg in his nervous state.

“You’re vibrating,” Armie said. He took his hand back quickly, folding his arms across his chest. “Tell me about the elements of a valid contract.”

“What?” Tim gaped at Armie. Was he being _quizzed_ , like he hadn’t been effectively practicing law for the past seven years?

“The elements. Go.”

“Uh, well...offer, acceptance, consideration, mutuality of obligation—“

“Explain valid consideration.”

Baffled, Tim continued to answer Armie’s questions about basic concepts of law. It wasn’t hard; he knew this stuff. He just hoped he was passing whatever test Armie was giving him. 

After a while, Armie held up a hand. “That’s good,” he said, cutting Tim off abruptly as he was describing the concept of proximate cause. He put earbuds in his ears, pressed play on his phone, opened the book in his lap, and proceeded to ignore Tim completely. 

Tim looked around, surprised to find that they were already in the air. When had they taken off? As realization hit, he smiled. Armie had been distracting him, and it had worked. Shaking his head, he mimicked Armie’s actions, turned up his music, and settled into his own book. 

A little over an hour later, Armie pulled out his earbuds and tapped Tim on the arm. 

“What?” Tim asked, turning off his music. 

“Common forms of collateral for secured transactions. List them,” Armie said. 

Tim blushed. “It’s okay, you don’t have to do that. Landing doesn’t give me as much of a problem as taking off does,” he said. “But thanks. For before. Shit, that’s so embarrassing.”

Armie nodded. “You’re welcome,” he said. “No need to be embarrassed.” He gestured to Tim’s headphones. “What are you listening to?”

Tim called up his playlist and showed it to Armie, who smiled. 

“We’ve got overlapping taste,” he said, revealing his own playlist. 

Seeing a number of not only the same artists but the same tracks on both lists gave Tim a warm feeling in his stomach. 

It didn’t take long to pick up the rental car and get on the road north. It was a two hour drive to their hotel in a little town called Greenwood. Once there, they’d stay the night at the Mountain Overlook Lodge, and in the morning they’d leave with essentials and their gear for the two day trek. The rest of their belongings would be transported for pick up at their final destination. 

Tim watched as the crowded buildings of the city of Boston gave way to rolling hills. He had never come up with anything intelligent to talk about, and since Armie seemed content to travel without talking, he stopped trying. It wasn’t until they had crossed the tolls into New Hampshire that Armie broke the silence. 

“You’re quieter than I thought,” he said. 

Tim glanced at him, but Armie kept his eyes on the road. 

“I’m not really,” Tim said. “I mean, not usually.”

“Just with me, then.” Armie did look over at him then, briefly, a wry smile on his face, before turning back to the road. 

“I don’t want to annoy you,” Tim murmured, staring down at his hands. 

Armie laughed softly. Another few minutes passed, and then he spoke again. 

“So,” he said, “have you ever been to Maine before?”

“No,” Tim replied. “Not...well. Maybe when I was a kid, once, but I’m not sure.”

“You’re not sure?”

“Yeah, memories of my childhood are a little...they aren’t totally clear. We took some beach trips and one might have been to Maine. But I can’t really remember specifics and there’s no one to ask. So…” He shrugged.

“There’s no one to ask?” Armie sounded surprised. Then he cleared his throat. “Sorry. That was intrusive.”

“No, I don’t...mind.” Tim chewed on his lip a moment. “It’s just me now. My family was killed in a car accident when I was in high school, and my only remaining grandmother passed away last year. So. There’s no one to ask.”

“I’m sorry, about your family,” Armie said quietly. “I can relate. I’m on my own as well.”

Tim turned and studied Armie, noting the way his hands had tightened on the steering wheel and the muscles of his jaw worked back and forth. 

“Yeah?” he asked. “Do you want to talk about it, or—“

“There’s not much to say,” Armie said. “It’s not quite the same as your story. My parents are still alive. They’re divorced now, living in Dallas and the Caymans. My brother lives in Dallas too. But I don’t speak with them.”

“Ever?” Tim asked. 

“I haven’t seen or spoken with any of them in over fifteen years. We had a difference of opinion about my...lifestyle, and they made their preference for cutting off contact abundantly clear.” 

Tim tried to imagine what that would be like. He was so used to not having anyone, that the idea of _having_ people out there and not attempting a relationship felt bizarre. 

“Before you start thinking that you would give anything to be able to talk to your family again and judge me for not, let me assure you that my family is not the same as yours.” Armie stared straight ahead, and spoke firmly but quietly. 

“I wasn’t—“

“You were. And that’s understandable. But I don’t need you to step in and save my relationship with my family. It’s not a great loss, since we were at odds most of my life. This estrangement? It’s actually a blessing.”

Tim considered that, and then accepted it. It wasn't his business, anyway. 

“Okay,” he said. 

Armie shot him a surprised look, and then visibly relaxed. The mood in the car shifted, softened. Outside, the view had begun to soften as well, as the sun began its fall toward the horizon. The rich greens and browns of the landscape grew muted with each passing mile, and Tim began to feel the edges of his nerves settle one by one. 

After another few miles, he decided it was time to contribute to the conversation. Armie had made an attempt, so it was Tim’s turn. 

“So you don’t hang out with your family, you golf for business and not pleasure, and occasionally you yearn for the great outdoors but can’t get away as often as you’d like,” he said. “What _does_ the great Armie Hammer do with himself when he’s not in the office intimidating the entire firm?”

Armie snorted. “I’m not sure whether to start by questioning the label ‘great’ or your assessment that I _intimidate_ people.”

“You know you intimidate people,” Tim scoffed. “It’s part of your persona. And...it works for you.” He added the last as an afterthought. 

“Tim, can you do me a favor?” Armie asked. 

“I...yes, of course,” said Tim. 

“Can we let the office go? When I come out here, I’d rather not be Armand Hammer, equity partner. I’d rather just be Armie. And you can just be Tim? No need to be intimidated or to do any intimidating. This isn’t a job interview or a project you’re working on.”

Tim nodded. “I like that,” he said. “So we’ll just be…”

“Just two people going biking.”

“Okay, I can do that,” Tim said. He rather liked the idea. It took the pressure off, knowing Armie wasn’t expecting him to _perform_ the entire weekend. 

After a moment, Armie answered Tim’s original question, saying, “I read a lot.”

“Read what?” Tim asked. 

“Well, books are the generally accepted format,” said Armie with a smirk. 

“I meant what kind of—“

“I know what you meant.” Armie shrugged. “Anything, really. For fiction, I tend towards crime novels and mysteries, but can enjoy anything as long as it's well written. Same with non-fiction. If it’s engaging, I’ll pick it up.” He paused so the GPS, which had been silent for a while, directed them off the highway and onto a two-lane road that wound its way between walls of evergreen trees. 

“What were you reading on the plane?” Tim asked. 

“A book about the Irish mob in Boston.”

Tim perked up. “That’s interesting. I mean, is it?”

“It is.” Armie hesitated, then began to talk. 

As he told Tim about what he had read, Tim found himself relaxing into his seat. He closed his eyes, letting the silky tones of Armie’s voice drift around him. He could listen to this man talk about anything. For any amount of time. 

When Armie stopped talking, Tim opened his eyes. “Why did you stop?” he asked. 

“You were asleep,” Armie said. He sounded vaguely insulted. 

“I wasn’t,” Tim protested. “I was listening.”

“You looked like you had fallen asleep.”

“No. I was just...you’ve got a nice voice. So I was…” 

Tim stopped abruptly. _Fuck_. He knew it, he _knew_ he was going to screw this up. They hadn’t even made it to their first destination and he’d already stepped in it. _You’ve got a nice voice_. What kind of bullshit intimate compliment was that?

He sat rigidly, afraid to look at Armie. But all Armie said was, “Thanks.” He sounded surprised. 

Then he started talking again, and his tales of Whitey Bulger and Steve Flemmi brought them all the way to the wide drive leading up to the sprawling lodge where they would spend their first night. 

After checking in and finding their rooms, they made their way down to the lobby restaurant. It was a large, open room with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the mountains — hence the lodge’s name. Because night had fallen, the windows instead reflected the diners within. 

Tim was therefore very aware of what an unmatched pair they were. Armie followed a hostess through the maze of tables and Tim followed Armie, and he got a good view of how they looked in the windows around them. Armie was strong and tall and beautiful, and Tim was...well, he wasn’t unattractive, but next to Armie he was skinny and not worth more than a second look. 

He sighed. 

Despite feeling out of his depth, the conversation that had begun in the car continued easily over dinner. So far, Armie seemed neither annoyed by him or put off by the things he said. In fact, he seemed interested, asking Tim probing questions about his experiences in college and law school, places he’d traveled, his opinions on politics. He leaned forward and looked Tim in the eyes and laughed at the things he said. 

They had once again ordered scotch — two apiece — and by the time Tim was finishing the second he was feeling lighter, looser. More able to be himself. He had asked Armie a question about getting hired at the firm, and as Armie finished describing his awkward interview with Sherman Locke, Tim suddenly grinned. 

“What?” Armie asked. He picked up his napkin and dabbed at his mouth and chin. “Do I have something on my face?”

“No,” Tim said. And then, because the drink had made it harder to stop his thoughts from tumbling out of his mouth, he continued. “You’re a good date.”

Armie blinked at him, and then smiled back. “I am?”

Tim realized what he had said and felt his cheeks go hot. _Shit, shit, shit._

“I meant...not _date._ Just date, because of the auction,” he said, backpedaling as fast as he could. “I thought it might be awkward, to hang out because we don’t — because I’m not — and you’re —“ Tim sighed. “But it’s not. You’re good at making people feel comfortable. I didn’t expect that.”

“Because I’m so intimidating, you mean?” Armie suggested. He looked thoughtful. 

“Well, and because you wouldn’t normally even know who I was, but you act like we’re on the same level.” Tim played with his silverware, lining it up neatly on his empty plate. “So thanks.”

“Tim…” Armie was watching him. “We _are_ on the same level. At the office, obviously not. But we’re not there, so that stratification doesn’t apply. I told you, this weekend we’re just...ourselves. No labels needed.”

Tim hummed in acknowledgement. He had meant what he had said, and if Armie was being honest, he could actually look forward to having some fun this weekend. 

Armie rolled his eyes. “And I know who you are. I’ve known who you were for seven...no, eight years. Speaking of interviews, I interviewed you. I’m not sure if you remember that, but I did.”

“I remember,” Tim said. “I felt good after that interview. And I liked you, and the firm, a lot. I was really happy you decided to hire me.”

With a thoughtful look on his face, Armie sat back in his chair. He watched Tim appraisingly for a moment. 

“You know,” he said, “I actually _didn’t_ want to hire you." He dropped his gaze to the table and fiddled with his napkin, rolling the edge towards the center and then smoothing it back out. 

Tim‘s stomach dropped, and a bitter taste slid into his mouth. The slightly warm, fuzzy feeling that has enveloped him evaporated in an instant. Armie hadn’t wanted to hire him?

“Why?” he asked, swallowing hard. “Was it that you didn’t think I was good enough? Do you still think—“ 

Armie shook his head. “You were good enough. You _are_ good enough. Better than. That wasn’t the problem.” 

“What was the problem?” Tim asked. He was almost afraid to hear, and he squeezed his hands into fists until he could feel his nails biting into his palms. 

Armie cleared his throat. “Well...I didn’t want to hire you, because…” he lifted his gaze to Tim’s. “Because I wanted to fuck you.” 

Tim’s mouth dropped open. The words landed on the table between them, a sparking stick of dynamite that could blow at any moment. Seconds ticked by as Armie kept his gaze steady on Tim, his blue eyes the color of deep ocean waters. Finally, Tim was the one who broke the silence, his voice barely rising above a whisper. 

“You...did? You wanted to...with me?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Still do.” Armie replied.

Tim inhaled a sharp breath. “Oh,” he said. “Oh.”

His heart began to pound, and he pulled his gaze away from Armie to look out the window. He was met by his own reflection, wide-eyed with shock and shaking with anticipation. 

_What the fuck was he supposed to do now?_


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim’s pulse beat a rapid staccato rhythm in his neck and wrists, his mouth was dry, and his thoughts were racing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t sleep so I was able to finish this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy...
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.

Tim’s pulse beat a rapid staccato rhythm in his neck and wrists, his mouth was dry, and his thoughts were racing. 

_Armie thinks I’m good enough._

_Armie noticed me._

_Armie wants to fuck me._

Slowly, he turned away from the window. Armie was watching him, his expression guarded. Tim watched him back a moment, trying to read his mind. If Armie was being honest, and he had been interested in Tim for eight years — and _holy shit_ — then why was he revealing it now? Unless he...intended to do something about it?

Tim licked his lips, and didn’t miss the way Armie’s gaze automatically dropped to watch. He did it a second time, feeling a thrill snake down his spine and into his groin when Armie’s nostrils flared slightly. 

The air between them seemed to have developed a current, an electricity that had been activated by Armie’s words. 

Tim grasped for the right response, and found nothing. Should he tell Armie he felt the same way? Be earnest about it, straightforward, the way Armie had been? Should he make a joke, lighten the pressure? Should he think about the future of his job, back away?

Before he could decide, Armie leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. Tim tensed and held his breath, and Armie noticed. He sighed.

“I probably shouldn’t have said that,” Armie said. “Actually, there’s no ‘probably’ about it. And if you want to make a complaint to Human Resources, I won’t contest it.”

Tim shook his head slowly. “I’m not...it’s okay,” he managed.

“It is, however, a fact,” Armie continued, “one I’ve spent years ignoring. But you’re not a scared junior associate anymore. You’re about to make partner. I was going to wait until after that to approach you, but...we’re out here, together, away from the office. I got the sense that you might feel the same way about me. Am I wrong?”

Tim swallowed, and then fastened on the part of Armie’s statement that was easiest to address. “I’m about to make partner?” he asked.

Armie grinned. “That shouldn’t surprise you so much. You’ve worked your ass off for it.”

Tim _had_ worked his ass off. He knew that he was eligible for partnership consideration this year, and had been busting his butt around the clock on his cases as well as on outreach and business development. He had known it was _possible_ , but…

“No one has said anything to me yet,” he said. He would have thought that someone, one of the partners he worked with regularly maybe, would have given him the heads up that he was close. So that he could push it the extra mile.

The fact that no one had...it worried him. Was this something Armie was saying, as a bargaining chip? The idea made him sick to his stomach.

“They won’t say anything, not for another month or so. They aren’t allowed, because it’s not technically definite. We still need the vote. But...” Armie shrugged. “...you’re the best candidate and everyone knows it, so it’s as close to definite as it can get.”

“If no one is allowed to talk about it, why are _you_ telling me?” Tim asked. He pressed his lips together, trying to ignore the nausea that was bubbling up his throat. 

“I’m not really supposed to be, but I’ve got a better sense than everyone else how sure it is, because I’ve talked to most of the voting partners.” He smiled. “And I intend to back you, which should push any undecideds over the edge.”

Tim chose his next words carefully, and spoke them in the same fashion. “You intend to back me...in general? Or...only if I’m interested in sleeping with you?”

Armie’s eyes flashed, and he frowned. “No,” he said sharply. “I’m backing you either way. One has nothing to do with the other.”

Maybe he shouldn’t, but Tim believed him. Armie looked utterly offended — angry, perhaps — at the suggestion that he was offering Tim a quid pro quo. The nausea subsided, and was replaced by a wave of excitement. Was this actually going to happen? Was something he had been fantasizing about for _years_ about to materialize?

“I definitely shouldn’t have said anything,” Armie said, sitting back in his chair and shaking his head. Where a moment ago he looked angry, now he looked...tired, like someone had opened a valve and let the air out of him. “Especially if you’re feeling pressure. Let’s table this. Forget I said it.”

And just like that, Tim felt like the air had been let out of him as well. His blooming excitement fizzled. He dragged his eyes away from Armie, fastened his gaze on the tiny votive candle between them, and tried to tell himself he had lost nothing. Armie had backtracked, and things were status quo. That was that. 

But then Armie cleared his throat. “At some point, if you decided...well. You know how I feel.”

Immediately, Tim’s head snapped back up. So maybe it wasn’t status quo, after all, and he was back to the big question: _what the fuck is the right decision here_?

Before he could make up his mind, their waiter approached with the check for Armie to sign, and then Armie was on his feet.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

Once again, Tim was following Armie, this time out of the restaurant. Only now his thoughts were of an entirely opposite nature than on the way in. Armie _wanted_ him. It made him feel...attractive. Powerful. And he did have power, he realized. It was now up to Tim to accept or reject Armie’s advance.

On the way up to their rooms, he thought about his options. First, he considered just saying no, or saying nothing. Letting it drop entirely. Keep things as they had been. That might be the _safest_ choice, with the least risk, but the idea of it made Tim want to cry. 

_Armie fucking Hammer_ was on the menu. How could he pass that up, after wanting it for so long? He wasn’t sure he could. So...he could say _okay, let’s do this_ and have the night of his life. Three nights of his life, if it went well and continued throughout their trip. 

On the other hand, what if it didn’t go well? What if he was too...something? Not what Armie was expecting? What if they didn’t fit together quite right and it ended up being uncomfortable or just okay. Then...it would be awkward for the rest of the weekend, and unbearable once they returned to the office. And would it jeopardize his partnership chances? 

No, he decided. Armie was a professional. If it was true that he had been interested in Tim for eight whole years and not let it affect what went on at the firm, then he would be able to be professional even if it turned out they didn’t click. And if he couldn’t, then Tim could file a complaint with HR just like Armie suggested. 

Though that was his least favorite option. The idea made him feel ill again. If he ended up doing that, and people found out — it was supposed to be confidential but these things never were, precisely — then he would always wonder if people thought he had gotten to where he was because of —

“I can hear you thinking.” 

“Huh?” Tim jumped slightly, his train of thought derailed. 

They were in the elevator, standing side by side. Armie’s hands were wedged into the pockets of his jeans, only his fingers inside because of the snug fit. He was smiling again, a sort of amused smile, one that said he was both intrigued and fond at the same time. 

Armie spoke again,facing forward, not looking at Tim. “You are a decidedly loud thinker. I’ve noticed that before, the way your gears get going and make a ruckus inside that head of yours.” 

“Oh. Sorry,” Tim said. “I didn’t mean to...think loud.”

Armie chuckled. “I don’t mind. Let me guess, you’re working out the risks and rewards of all of the paths available to you from this point.”

“Well…” Tim sighed. “Yes.”

“Which is why you’re such a good lawyer. Let me help.” Armie said. “None of your options pose a risk to your career.”

“No?” 

“No. I can promise you that. You’ll make partner either way, you won’t get special treatment from me either way. When we get back to the office, we’re back at the office, plain and simple. No matter what.”

The elevator came to a stop at their floor, and Armie stuck out a hand to hold the doors open so Tim could exit first. Then he led the way down the carpeted hall, his long legs eating up the distance so quickly Tim had to skip a little to keep up. 

“The only thing you have to consider,” Armie said, as they rounded a corner, “is whether or not you’re interested. If you aren’t, that’s that. If you are…” He trailed off and shrugged. “This ‘date’ could get really interesting.”

They arrived at their rooms, which were at the end of the hallway, tucked into a corner. Armie turned and leaned a shoulder against the wall between their doors and gave Tim an appraising look that ignited tiny fires inside him.

Okay, he _was_ interested. Definitely. His pulse picked up again at the thought that, in a couple of minutes, he might be kissing Armie. He imagined being pressed into a mattress by his long, lean body. He would suck at Armie’s neck and be able to see what the man tasted like, a question that had haunted his dreams forever. He wondered if it were possible for his mouth to go dry _and_ to be drooling at the same time. 

Should he say something? Or simply open his door and invite Armie in? Perhaps just follow Armie into his own room?

Tim silently cursed his paralysis. He was usually pretty good at this, at that point in the evening when it was time to transition from conversation to something else. He knew how to do it. Was smooth, even. 

Armie was watching him, and his smile grew. Then he pushed off of the wall and moved towards Tim, who took an involuntary step back and bumped up against his door. 

Tim held his breath as Armie dipped his head down, their noses almost touching. His stomach did a long, slow loop and his lips tingled in anticipation. He felt a hand on his hip, and shivered as the hand smoothed its way around to his rear pocket, slipped inside and back out again. 

There was a click behind him, and then the door disappeared from his back. Tim stumbled, and only Armie’s sudden grip on his waist kept him from falling on his ass. 

Then Armie released him and stepped back. He pressed Tim’s keycard into his hand with a mischievous grin. 

“We’ve got a long ride tomorrow,” he said. As Tim stared at him, he deftly unearthed his own keycard and unlocked his own door. “So why don’t you get some sleep.”

Tim shook his head to clear it. “Wait,” he said, “I thought—“

“Not tonight,” Armie said. “Don’t rush it. Take your time and think on it. I’m not going anywhere.” 

Tim swallowed. “Okay,” he said. “Uh...then goodnight, Armie.”

“Goodnight, Tim.” Armie turned to enter his room, and then paused. Tim heard a muttered _what the hell_ and then Armie turned around, took one giant step towards him, and kissed him. 

For a second, Tim was too stunned to move. Armie’s hands cradled his face and his lips slid across Tim’s with purpose, and then instinct kicked in and Tim began to kiss back. He placed his hands on Armie’s chest — his solid, warm chest, with hair that Tim could feel through the thin cotton of Armie’s t-shirt — and slid them upward.

He let out a soft moan, and just as he moved into Armie’s body and prepared to part his lips in invitation, Armie broke the kiss and pulled away. 

“Goodnight, Tim,” he said again, and then slipped into his room and closed the door. 

Tim stared at the closed door for three full minutes before his brain began to work again. When it did, he retreated into his own room. As he brushed his teeth and got ready for bed, his racing mind settled into one single thought:

_It had been so worth the wait._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie knocked on Tim’s door at seven the next morning, looking like a poster child for Cycling Monthly. Tim took in the Lycra shorts and top — the latter a deep blue that brought out Armie’s eyes and the former a sleek black, showcasing the miles of tanned leg beneath them — and knew he was fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100% fiction. I hope you enjoy it! ❤️

Armie knocked on Tim’s door at seven the next morning, looking like a poster child for Cycling Monthly. Tim took in the Lycra shorts and top — the latter a deep blue that brought out Armie’s eyes and the former a sleek black, showcasing the miles of tanned leg beneath them — and knew he was fucked. 

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it downstairs, let alone be coordinated enough to ride a bike on a rough mountain trail with _that_ in his view.

“Morning,” Armie said cheerily. 

“I thought we weren’t leaving until eight-thirty,” Tim mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. 

He had tried to go to sleep early, really he had, but instead he had been up for hours, tossing and turning. He wasn’t stupid; he knew why, but knowing why hadn’t prevented the insomnia. He had finally drifted off around three, and had managed to get a few hours of dreamless slumber before Armie’s knock had awakened him. 

Armie was nodding. “We’re meeting the outfitters at eight-thirty. But we’ve got to be downstairs and checked out and ready to ride by then, preferably having eaten breakfast.” Armie squinted at him. “Are you just waking up?”

“I...yes,” Tim said. “I can be ready in a few minutes, I just need to grab a shower and pack. If you want to go get breakfast, you don’t have to wait for me.”

“Wow, you really aren’t a morning person,” Armie said, grinning. “And you must not be completely awake yet if you didn’t realize I came bearing breakfast.” He offered up a large tray with several covered dishes, and Tim could suddenly smell bacon and something deliciously starchy that made his mouth water. Had Armie been holding that the entire time? 

“Where did you get that?” Tim asked. 

“Room service,” Armie replied. “Can I come in?”

Tim looked over his shoulder, at the mess he had somehow managed to make in only a handful of hours. Then he looked back at Armie, who was grinning at him hopefully, and caved. He stepped back and opened the door wide enough to let Armie and the gigantic tray through. 

Armie stopped a few feet inside, and stared around the room, eyes wide. 

“Whoa,” he said. “What happened here? Were you robbed?“

“I don’t...I don’t know how it happens,” Tim muttered, feeling the flush rising in his cheeks. He walked around the room, throwing handfuls of clothing and possessions onto the unmade bed. “It’s like somehow my suitcase explodes the second I open it. Every time.”

With a laugh, Armie set the tray on the table by the window. “Amazing,” he said. “I never would have guessed you were a slob, not from how organized your office is. Come on, eat it while it’s hot and then you can shower.” He settled himself into one of the two chairs and gestured at the other one.

Tim drifted towards the table. “What did you order?” he asked.

“A little of a lot of things,” Armie replied. As Tim pulled out the opposite chair, Armie began to remove the covers from the dishes. “There’s an omelette, some eggs and sausage and home fries, pancakes, and yogurt with granola and berries. Take your pick.”

Tim leaned forward and examined the dishes. “Looks great,” he said. “What do you want?”

Armie poured cups of coffee out of a carafe and slid one towards Tim’s side of the table along with a bottle of water. “Anything,” he said. 

After another minute, Tim selected the omelette, which appeared to be full of cheese and ham.

“Good choice,” Armie said.

“Did you want half?” asked Tim.

“Nah.” Armie reached for the other egg plate. “But let’s split the pancakes.”

They ate in silence for a while, the only sounds the clinking of cutlery on the china and soft chewing. Two-thirds of a cup of coffee and half an omelette later, Tim woke up enough to realize he was sitting across from Armie in his grungy sleepwear — an old t-shirt from Yale Law that had once been navy blue but was now more of a grey and had holes in the shoulders, and black boxer briefs — and that he must look ridiculous. He tried to smooth his curls back, knowing they were wild and out of control after having been slept on.

“Leave it,” Armie said.

“What?”

“Your hair. Don’t — don’t worry about it.” Armie smirked. “It’s charming.”

Tim peeked up at Armie through his lashes, and the look Armie was giving him sent his stomach into a long, slow roll. He was suddenly reminded of a vision, one he had had many times before, of sitting across a breakfast table with Armie just like this. 

Here they were, acting out one of his fantasies. And the night before...had Armie really said those things? Had Armie really kissed him? Armie, who he hadn’t even known was _gay_ — or maybe bi — until last night?

For a moment, it was all too much. 

“I should shower,” he said, jumping up from his seat and pulling his t-shirt down as far as it would go.

“You didn’t finish breakfast yet,” Armie pointed out.

“I’ll grab a few more bites when I’m out.” He backed toward the bathroom. “I’ll just be a minute.”

He darted for the bathroom and closed the door, leaning up against it and closing his eyes. He had thought this trip was going to be complicated because of his secret crush on Armie. Now, everything was different, and yet it seemed even more complicated. Now he had to worry not only about how he appeared _professionally_ , but also about how he appeared _personally_. He had to stress about how he looked and whether he was good enough outside of the office and—

Timmy opened his eyes and pushed away from the door. Maybe it didn’t have to be like that. 

Armie had made him an offer. He was going to accept. The terms were straightforward: sex for the weekend, along with a guarantee of no post-sex consequences for either of their careers. 

Thinking about this as a simple transaction made him feel better immediately. He just had to understand the terms. They both did — a valid contract required a meeting of the minds, after all. And then they could execute the bargain and walk away better off than before. 

Of course, that meant he would have to talk to Armie, to make sure their minds were really met on the terms, but...he could handle a simple negotiation, now that he wasn’t being knocked on his ass by an offer coming out of left field. 

As Tim showered, he thought about how he’d approach things. Maybe during the day’s bike ride, when they stopped for lunch. Or after, once they reached the cabin. He’d say, _Armie, before we start anything, I think we should make sure we both know what we’re expecting from each other, so this can be beneficial to both of us._

Unless that was too stiff. 

_Armie, I can’t wait to ride you until the sun comes up, but first I just want to make sure we’re on the same page._

Well, he figured, one way or another he’d get it done. 

When he had finished his shower and run a comb through his hair, he realized that he had made one fatal error when he escaped to the bathroom. His clothes were all on the other side of the door. Where — probably, unless he had gone back to his own room — Armie was waiting. 

There was nothing to do about it. So he wrapped a towel around his waist, took a deep breath, and opened the door. 

Armie was leaning Tim’s backpack against the headboard of the bed. He looked up, blinked once, and grinned. 

“I take it back,” he said. “This is much more charming.”

Tim could feel the flush rising up his chest and did his best to will it away. He cleared his throat. 

“Uh, I just need to grab my…” he trailed off, looking around the room. “Where’s my stuff?”

“Oh. I packed you up. Except for whatever you’ve got in the bathroom, this is all set.” Tim gaped at Armie, and then his eyes fell on his suitcase, which lay open on the bed. Sure enough, everything seemed to be efficiently stowed. Except for a few things that were laid out neatly beside it. Armie saw him looking and shrugged. “I packed up your supplies in your backpack, but wasn’t sure which of your clothes you wanted for today versus tomorrow.”

“I...thanks,” Tim said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I didn’t mind,” Armie said. “Green or yellow today?”

He held up two shirts. 

“Green,” Tim said. 

Armie tossed him the shirt and a pair of black shorts. He caught them with his left hand, managing to keep his right hand on his towel. 

“Okay, I’ll just…” He backed into the bathroom and closed the door again. 

As he slid the shorts and shirt on, he tried to reconcile the odd warm feeling in his stomach. He should probably be annoyed that Armie had taken it upon himself to organize his things, but instead he felt...safe. The idea of Armie’s hands efficiently packing his backpack and suitcase, tucking power bars and electrolyte powder into side pockets and folding his clothes and…

Tim shook his head. This weekend had already been full of surprises, and it had barely begun. He guessed he shouldn’t have been _so_ shocked that Armie would just step in and sort things out. He was a take-charge person, it was as natural as breathing.

When Tim emerged from the bathroom a second time, Armie was back at the table, munching on fruit and reading a magazine. He stood when he saw Tim. 

“Why don’t you finish eating,” Armie said. “I’ll grab my bags and head down to check out. Come down when you’re ready, and we can meet the outfitter.”

“Sure,” said Tim. 

He busied himself stowing his toiletries in his backpack and zipping up his suitcase while Armie left, and then returned to the food. His eggs were cold, so he tackled the remainder of the pancakes. By the time he was done and ready to go, he’d already received a text. 

_Armie: We’re outside when you’re ready._

Tim hurried to drag his things downstairs, past the front desk, and out the revolving doors. He found Armie standing by an ancient yellow van with the words _Bike It!_ painted on the side, talking to a bearded guy with long blonde hair tied back from his face with a piece of leather. 

Armie was grinning at the guy, placing a lingering touch on his bicep, and the guy was laughing, his blue eyes sparkling in the early morning sun. Tim immediately bristled. 

He strode across the pavement, his suitcase thumping behind him, until he had reached Armie’s side. Before he knew what he was doing, he had brushed his fingers against Armie’s wrist.

“Hey,” he said, a little too loudly. 

Both men turned to Tim. Armie smiled, something flickering briefly in his eyes. He shifted and slung an arm around Tim’s shoulders, and Tim relaxed. 

“This is Tim,” said Armie. “He’s a bit rusty, so we’re taking it easy.”

“Morning,” said the bearded guy, holding out his hand. “I’m Garrett.”

“Nice to meet you,” Tim replied, shifting instantly into greeting mode. “I like your van.”

“Thanks,” said Garrett, reaching behind him to give the metal an affectionate tap. “She’s pretty _and_ reliable. Let me get your things in the back, and we’ll be on our way. You guys can hop in when you’re ready.”

He looped orange tags around the suitcase handles and dragged them to the rear of the van, leaving Armie and Tim to open the sliding door and climb inside. Armie let Tim get in first, and then settled into the seat beside him, their hips touching. His long legs were stretched in front of him, reaching between the front seats. Tim thought about what it would be like to start at the ankles and slide his hands up, slowly, hair tickling his fingers and muscles flexing under his palms.

To regain control of his thoughts, he focused on buckling his seatbelt. When he looked up, he caught Armie peering at him. 

“What?” he asked. Had Armie been able to tell that — for one little second — Tim had felt a tiny burst of jealousy and possession? He hoped not, that was embarrassing. He had no claim to Armie, they were just, at best, entering a brief mutual arrangement. 

“Hold still, you’ve got…”

Armie slowly raised his hand towards Tim’s face, and Tim froze. The hand rested on his cheek, and a thumb brushed against the corner of his mouth, sending a frisson down his spine. Tim watched as Armie brought his thumb to his own mouth and licked it. 

“You had a bit of syrup,” he said, smirking at Tim’s expression. 

Garrett climbed into the driver’s seat. He turned the key in the ignition, and after the old engine had rattled to life, he said, “Okay guys, you ready?”

“Ready,” Armie said. 

“Mmhmm,” was all Tim could manage, since his heart was banging out a jitterbug in his chest.

They drove out of the hotel parking lot and were on their way. Tim kept his eyes resolutely on the passing scenery. It was only a few minutes before the van was bumping off the main road and onto an unpaved track. It wound under a canopy of trees and dead-ended at a small dirt parking lot. 

Garrett pulled to the side and hopped out, and Armie and Tim followed suit. By the time they had scrambled out of the van and made their way around to the back, Garrett was setting their bikes on the ground. 

“So here’s the trailhead,” Garrett said, pointing to an opening in the trees with a large, house-shaped wooden marker reading _Wiscassett Trail._ “The only tricky part on this one is that you’ve got to make sure you take the uphill path — don’t worry, it’s not too steep — when it branches. Follow the blue blazes. If you start seeing yellow, you went the wrong way.”

“What happens if we get lost?” Tim asked, squeezing the strap of his backpack. That was all he needed, to get lost in the middle of Maine wilderness. 

“You won’t,” Garrett said. “Your boyfriend has a satellite GPS and a good sense of direction. He knows what he’s doing. But if you do get into any trouble just give me a call.”

”Oh,” said Tim, “he’s not—“

”I’ve done this a million times, sweet T,” Armie said, tugging at the ends of Tim’s hair. “You’re safe with me.”

 _Sweet T?_ Tim’s heart thudded loudly in his chest.

Garrett next went over the bike’s gear system and brakes with Tim, and how to operate the clipless pedals. He got them buckled into their helmets and pads, and rattled off a few additional tips about the trail. 

“Thanks, G,” Armie said when he was done, clapping him on the shoulder. “We’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”

Then the van rumbled away and Tim was left alone with Armie. They stood side by side a moment, breathing in the clean air filled with the scent of earth and vegetation. Once the sound of the van had faded, it was quiet, with only the rustling of the branches and the soft twittering of the birds to break the silence. The trees were a brilliant green, and the air around them had that hazy shimmer of a summer morning that would burn off in a couple of hours. 

He turned to watch Armie, who had his head tilted back, looking up at the blue sky. He breathed deeply, his chest rising and falling. He looked...at peace. 

Armie sighed. “Fuck, I love it out here,” he said softly. “Come on. We’ve got a long way to go. Might as well get started.” 

”I have to ask...” Tim fidgeted with the hem of his shirt, but managed to get the rest out. “Sweet T?”

”Oh.” Armie cleared his throat and looked embarrassed. “It slipped. It’s what I’ve been calling you in my head for...a while.”

He turned away from Tim and threw a leg over his bike. Tim copied his movement and clipped in his right foot the way Garrett had showed him, his mind racing with what Armie has just revealed. Armie looked over his shoulder. 

“Ready?” he asked. 

Tim nodded. He felt a little thrill, half excitement, half fear. Would he be able to keep up with Armie? Would he like this? What exactly was going to happen when they reached the end of the trail?

Armie pushed off, and Tim followed. He managed to get his left foot clipped in on the second try, and then he was bumping over the edge of the parking lot and they were off. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 1 is harder than Tim thought it would be...in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for following these boys and this story...
> 
> Here's their first full cycling day. Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.

By the time they pulled off the trail and into a small clearing to take a break and have lunch, Tim was riding an adrenaline high like he hadn’t felt in years, if ever. 

He had spent the better part of the first hour and a half in a state of panic. Every root, every rock, every crevice in the trail posed a deathly threat that could send him tumbling head over handlebars, ending inevitably with a cracked skull or a snapped neck. He remained tense in the seat, muscles rigid, with a white-knuckled grip and a hair trigger on the brakes. 

His mind worked to unearth the hazy memories of the couple of times he had gone biking with the ex-boyfriend long ago. He hadn’t liked it then, had only pretended to be fine, but he didn’t remember it being this bad. Over the intervening years, his memory must have glossed over the terror of flying down an unforgiving trail. Or was it worse now? Had he grown more risk-averse with age?

_Why the fuck did people enjoy this?_

It couldn’t be about taking in the scenery, because his gaze was glued to the ground rather than the path ahead so that he could _see_ the insidious bits of nature that were about to cause his painful death. The most frustrating thing was that Tim felt like he was going too fast to really be able to see the dangers and avoid them, but was equally scared of slowing down further and losing Armie, who was zipping down the trail thirty feet ahead of him and gaining ground. 

_Follow the blue blazes, avoid the yellow,_ Tim repeated in his head. That was all he had to do to avoid getting lost, even if Armie did get too far ahead to be seen. Except he felt like he didn’t have the capacity to watch the trees for the little nailed bits of plastic _and_ keep an eye on the trail itself. 

Of course that also meant he wasn’t able to _enjoy_ the view of Armie ahead of him _._

His teeth clacking together from the uneven ride, Tim knew he had to get it together. He had to think some logical thoughts. Crowd out the illogical ones. 

First, these were bike trails. Designed specially for this activity. They were clearly maintained, and the most dangerous obstacles were probably removed regularly. So far, the bike seemed to be taking the remaining roots and rocks and dips just fine.

Second, people did this all the time. Garrett wouldn’t have a business if they didn’t. And unless there was some big cover-up on a massive level, there weren’t rashes of death by mountain bike going on. 

Third, he was wearing a helmet and protective gear. Maybe that was a point in the direction of danger...but on the other hand, it meant he was prepared in case of a fall. His head would be okay, as would his elbows and knees. 

Fourth...Armie seemed to not be worried about it, or about him, so he must be overreacting. As usual.

Feeling slightly calmer, he risked a glance up, and his stomach fell. Armie had disappeared completely around a bend in the trail fifty yards ahead. A wave of disappointment washed over him, a feeling that he was really alone.

_No. Armie’s up there, you just have to catch up,_ he told himself. _Stop stressing and just pick up the pace._

With a grunt, Tim pushed and pulled harder at the pedals. This was really just like when he was first a lawyer, when he felt like he was behind everyone and being too slow, too cautious, too methodical. So he had dug in, worked harder than ever, and after a while he no longer felt like he was lagging. Instead, he had surged ahead. He could do this too.

He kept his eyes determinedly on the trail ahead instead of right in front of him, which is why he was able to stop in time when he rounded the corner and found Armie pulled to the side, drinking from his water bottle. Tim squeezed the brakes and slid to a halt, pulling in behind Armie. 

Armie lowered his water bottle and grinned over his shoulder.

“There you are,” he said. “Thought I’d lost you. Doing okay?”

Tim nodded, taking a moment to catch his breath and definitely not to drool over the way a bead of sweat rolled from Armie’s temple to his neck. “Yeah. It’s...I guess it was a really long time ago that I did this last, and it’s ironically _not_ just like riding a bike.”

Armie laughed. “You want me to slow down?”

Tim thought about it for a moment, but then shook his head emphatically. “No, don’t,” he said. “I’m getting the hang of it. You don’t have to be careful with me, I can keep up.”

Armie watched him a long moment, and then nodded. “I believe you.”

He turned back to the trail and set himself in motion again. Tim lost only a few seconds before he was moving as well, this time determined to be good on his word. He kept his eyes on Armie’s back and picked up speed.

The wind tickled his cheeks, the trees rushed past, and suddenly something clicked. The ride seemed smoother, and he was no longer feeling all the bumps in his spine. The trail opened up ahead of them, the scenery got brighter, and he found himself relaxing into the ride.

When Armie held up a hand and pointed off to the right, Tim saw it. He saw the sign for the viewpoint. He saw the turn-off in the trail. He easily guided his bike down it, following Armie’s lead, and when they skidded to a stop in the direct sunlight, side by side, he was laughing.

“Having fun now?” Armie asked. Tim admired the way the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes emerged when he was smiling for real, and not just to put on a charming act. 

He took a moment to catch his breath, his heart beating in his ears and pumping adrenaline through his veins. The last stretch had been a long uphill sprint. The grade was slight, but it seemed to go on forever. Now, he saw why. 

They had made their way up in elevation. In front of them was a large grassy space that ended in a sheer drop off. Beyond that was a small valley with a crystal blue lake, sparkling in the sun. 

“Wow,” he whispered. 

“Yeah. Wow,” Armie murmured from beside him. “Come on, let’s take a break. Have lunch.”

He swung his leg over the bike, removed his pack, and wheeled the bike over to the side, where he let it fall gently to the ground. Tim followed his lead, and a few minutes later they were sprawled on a blanket at the edge of the clearing. Armie dug into his pack again and pulled out several small containers. 

Once open, they revealed an assortment of sandwiches and fresh cut vegetables and fruit. Tim’s stomach whined loudly at the sight. He clutched his abdomen and blushed as Armie laughed. 

“Well, dig in then,” Armie said, waving his hands with a flourish. He waited for Tim to pounce on the food — which he did, he was suddenly too hungry to care how eager he seemed — before selecting a sandwich himself. 

They didn’t talk right away, and Tim was grateful to have a minute to relax and let himself sink into the moment. The view was spectacular, the food was satisfying, and he felt great. The exercise had sharpened his senses and lifted his mood. 

Once the first round of sandwiches was tucked away, Tim ventured a glance over at Armie. He was lounging back on his elbows, looking out at the lake in contemplation. Tim’s eyes wandered from Armie’s face to his sculpted chest and on down to his tanned calves, and had to steady himself by pinching his own thigh sharply. To think that Armie wanted _him_...it almost took Tim’s breath away, how beautiful this man was, up close and in an environment which seemed to leech the stiffness and formality from him. 

As he watched, Armie turned and settled his gaze on Tim. Amusement colored his eyes. “Pretty good view. Don’t you think?” 

“Mmhmm.” Tim nodded his agreement and then, knowing he had been caught watching the wrong view but not sure whether Armie was teasing him or not, he turned back to the lake. “It’s so quiet. Hard to believe we aren’t really that far from Boston.”

“The noise of the city is it’s own music, but sometimes…” Armie sighed. “You need to turn it off.”

“Yeah. Even here though, my brain just keeps…” Tim trailed off. 

“Keeps…” Armie prompted. 

“I can’t help it,” Tim said with a shrug. “You talk about turning things off and getting away. And I try, but in the back of my head it’s like...the hamster wheel turns and turns and squeaks and I’m still kind of thinking about my cases. Or shit I have to get done at home. Or stuff I’ve forgotten to take care of.”

“You just haven’t had the right practice,” Armie said. He sat up and began to put the lids on the containers and repack them as he spoke. “Our jobs are nearly all-consuming. They have to be, and it’s part of why we like it. It keeps us feeling...needed. Integral. And what we do is important. But I learned a long time ago that it’s just as important to draw some boundaries.” He smiled ruefully. “Mine aren't very robust, but they’re there. And learning how to shut off the analytical side of your brain and just _be_ is critical. Otherwise you’ll drive yourself crazy.”

“How do you do it, though?” Tim asked. “For a while on the trail I wasn’t thinking about work, but instead I was stressing about the ride.” He frowned. “At the end there, the climb? I guess I was quiet then. Just focused on movement and where I was and how it felt.”

“There’s part of your answer,” Armie said. “Find triggers. Things you can use to signal your brain to quiet for a while. Exercise can definitely work. Being in a place like this. Or…”

Tim glanced over expectantly. Armie was watching him intensely. 

“Or finding someone interesting to focus on instead,” Armie finished. 

Heat rose in Tim’s cheeks. Armie was talking about _him_. Calling him _interesting._

“Hmmm.” He squirmed a little, and then turned back to the view. 

Armie had a point, he supposed. His fixation on the man himself had been a welcome and fun distraction from the grind of his job for the past seven years. 

“Tim,” Armie murmured. 

Slowly, Tim turned his head. Armie’s gaze had gone heavy, and Tim felt a long roll of anticipation in his gut. He took shallow breaths and licked his lips, almost expecting to feel a crackle of static electricity on his tongue. 

“Have you...have you thought any more about what we discussed last night?” He smiled lightly, as if to toss it off. “No pressure, just curious.”

Tim nodded. “I have, yeah,” he said. His voice was too breathy, so he cleared his throat. “I have.”

Armie waited, his silence urging Tim to expand upon his answer. He wanted to look back at the lake, and his hands, at anything else, but Armie’s eyes were locked on his and he couldn’t remember where he had left the key, or if it had ever been his in the first place. 

“I think…” Tim swallowed and tried to ignore the way his insides were twisting around nervously. “I think I’d like to — I mean, if you still want to — yes. I think yes.”

Armie’s features relaxed. “Come here,” he said. “Please.”

For a moment, Tim was still. Then, his muscles just _moved_ , without any firm direction from his brain, and he slid across the blanket towards Armie until they were nearly touching. 

Armie let out a slow breath, and then lifted a hand to brush his fingers along Tim’s jaw. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered. “Just about the most…”

Tim tried to duck his head, embarrassed, but Armie caught his chin and lifted it back up. He looked right into Armie’s eyes, two churning pools of blue, and shivered. 

Armie loosened his grip, now only cradling Tim’s face lightly. He leaned in, slowly, as if giving Tim a chance to change his mind. 

A puff of warm breath skated across Tim’s lips, and he blew out a breath of his own, feeling a dark thrill at knowing the air from their bodies was commingling. When he breathed in, he was breathing in something that had been inside _Armie_. 

A tiny sound escaped him at the thought, and then Armie’s lips were on his. 

The kiss was gentle, tentative. Not like the onslaught from the night before, which had been a rush of barely restrained passion, tightly leashed desire. This was different. A mere invitation, a promise. _Come closer,_ the kiss said. _Look deeper. Is there something here you like?_

At first, Tim just basked in the feel of Armie’s lips pressing against his, warm and soft. Then a band of lust uncoiled in his abdomen, and he pressed forward. His hand found its way into the soft hair behind Armie’s ear, and he opened his mouth. 

That was all the permission Armie seemed to need. He deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into Tim’s mouth. Tim let Armie explore, licking and tasting and prodding, until the urge to take more for himself was too strong to ignore. He felt a rush of adrenaline that overtook any he had felt on the trail earlier, this sudden sense that he _had_ to do something, had to reach out and take what he wanted, and not let anything — no doubts, insecurities, worries about the future — get in the way.

He surged forward, his tongue gaining dominance as he pushed Armie onto his back and swung a leg over his hips. Armie let out a surprised grunt as his back hit the blanket, but he responded immediately, his hands skimming down Tim’s sides to grip his waist firmly. Tim threaded his hands in Armie’s hair and tightened his grip, letting all the want he had felt for so long guide his actions

They kissed for a while like that, enjoying the taste of each other and the way their mouths seemed to just fit without practice or adjustment. Tim’s hands stayed, for the most part, in Armie’s hair, one occasionally sliding as far as his neck and back up again. Armie left his hands on Tim’s waist, squeezing lightly every so often. Their hips hovered a few inches apart.

Tim felt his arousal grow, and with it his erection. He experimentally moved his hips down, seeking contact, but Armie’s hands tightened around him and pushed him back. Armie broke away, turning his head to the side and breathing heavily.

“Stop,” Armie managed.

All at once, Tim was ashamed. He had botched it by pushing for too much too fast. But they were only on this trip for two days, his time was limited. Was it really that strange that he wanted as much as he could get during that time?

He sprang off of Armie, scooting back across the blanket, and pulled his knees to his chest, keeping his eyes firmly on the view. He didn’t really want to see the expression on Armie’s face, the one that said this was a mistake.

“Hey,” Armie said softly. “Why are you over there?”

Tim sighed. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

“For what?” Out of the corner of his eye, Tim saw Armie shift back into a sitting position and run his hands through his disheveled hair. “For kissing me so that I could barely think straight?”

Tim licked his lips. Armie didn’t sound like he was upset, exactly. At least, not at Tim, not for being too forward.

“Sorry for...I don’t know...pushing.” Tim risked a glance to his left, and so Armie’s concerned expression shift into a smile. The smile made him relax marginally.

“Shit, that wasn’t a problem. Believe me,” Armie said. “It tells me you know what you want and that’s...comforting.”

“Comforting?” Tim lifted his head from his knees and faced Armie full on.

“I’m more than a little worried you feel pressured. Which is the whole reason I haven’t...well. Anyway. Push all you want, is what I’m telling you.”

A warm sense of relief washed over Tim’s skin. But then, if Armie wanted him to push, why had he held him back? As if sensing Tim’s confusion, Armie spoke again.

“We _are_ out in public, even if we seem isolated. Anyone can ride into the clearing, and probably will, if we stay here long enough. Also...we’ve got miles to go and I don’t want to make that any more difficult than it needs to be.” He winked and adjusted his shorts meaningfully, which made Tim blush.

Armie stood and held out a hand. Tim took it and let himself be pulled to his feet.

“Speaking of which, let’s get going,” Armie said. “We’ve got another few hours to go before we reach the cabin.”

Tim shook out the blanket and they stowed it, then re-secured their packs to the bikes. 

“I want to go hard this next leg,” Armie said, after taking one last pull from his water bottle. “See if we can get there a little sooner than scheduled. It’s level for a while, with only a couple of short bursts of elevation, so it’s a good leg for a hard endurance ride. You up for it?”

“Sure,” Tim replied. He mounted the bike and waited for Armie to do the same. Thankfully, Armie had been right...giving themselves a minute to calm down was going to make it much less uncomfortable to ride.

“Shout if you need a break,” Armie said, and then he was off.

Armie’s assessment of the trail was accurate, as was his warning that he wanted to “go hard.” Tim’s heart pounded from the exertion, and after a while his muscles were screaming at him, not used to the abuse. But he dug as deep as he could, ignored the soreness that he knew was just going to be worse if he stopped, and kept going.

By the time they reached the cabins, Tim was beginning to see stars on the edges of his vision from all the adrenaline. He knew himself, and he knew he would have needed to ask for a real break before long, so he was relieved to see the little brown sign with a tent and an arrow pointing to the right. He followed Armie off the trail and into another clearing. This one was larger, and contained four small buildings. Beyond, Tim could make out what seemed to be another spectacular view.

They slid to a stop, breathing heavily. Tim dropped his feet to the ground and draped his arms across the handlebars, lowering his forehead to rest. Sweat dripped off of him, coloring the dirt beneath him with little darkened spots. He could hear his blood roaring in his ears and squeezed his eyes shut, concentrating on getting under control.

A hand landed on his back, between his shoulder blades.

“You okay?” Armie asked, concern evident in his tone. “You should have said something, we could have taken a break. Or slowed down.”

Tim just shook his head from side to side, unable to speak just yet. The hand slid up to the nape of his neck squeezed gently, then returned to his back and rubbed slow circles. After a minute of this, Tim felt his heart rate slow to a more normal speed, and he was no longer gulping in air. Cautiously, he raised his head. The cool breeze hit his damp face and he smiled and sighed.

“Better?” Armie asked.

Tim straightened up, and Armie’s hand fell away. “I’m good,” he said, his voice a little raw. “I probably would have needed to stop if we went much longer, but I would have said. I know my limits.”

Armie searched his face as if he was trying to gauge the honestly in Tim’s words, and then he relaxed. “Good,” he said. “I sometimes just kind of barrel ahead and expect everyone else to keep up. It’s a flaw.”

“It’s what makes you the best. And you deserve to be around people who can keep up with you,” Tim said, before he could think properly. The filter between his brain and his mouth — which hadn’t proved to be functioning all that well with Armie around in the first place — had apparently gone on hiatus.

Armie simply smiled at the compliment. “Okay, let’s get settled,” he said. “We’re in the one on the end.”

He hopped off the bike and Tim followed suit, taking a moment to balance on shaky legs. They made their way across the clearing, and now that Tim’s ears were no longer filled with the sound of his own heart, he could hear the evidence of other people in at least one of the other cabins. A burst of laughter, a shout, noises that reminded him they weren’t actually alone out here, no matter how much it felt like it. 

“I’m starving,” Armie said. “You?”

“Always,” Tim said. It was true...his metabolism was fast, and especially after the exercise, his stomach was once again grumbling. More than that, he knew he really needed to eat because the shaking in his muscles — his legs, but also his arms — had gotten worse as they walked. 

They locked their bikes to the stand by the door. Tim was fumbling with the straps that secured his pack to the bike — he couldn’t seem to get his fingers to quite obey the commands from his brain — when Armie moved into his view and laid a hand over Tim’s. Tim paused in his struggles and looked up. The concern was back in Armie’s face, lines appearing around the sides of his mouth and his forehead.

“You’re shaking,” Armie said. Tim turned his head, embarrassed at showing any sign of weakness.

“I’m fine,” he muttered.

“Look at me,” Armie said. The tone of his voice was firm enough that Tim did. Armie watched him carefully. “Your eyes are dilated,” Armie said. “How’s your vision? Fuzzy at the edges?”

“It’s fine,” Tim said again, shaking his head, even though Armie was right. The stars had given away to a grayness, but he knew his body and knew this was temporary. “It was just that last push. I need to eat something, like we said. That’s all.”

“Don’t move,” Armie said. He swung his pack around to his front and rummaged in a side pocket, eventually pulling out an electrolyte gel packet.

Tim made a face. He hated that goop. It was always overly sweet and left a bad aftertaste, in his experience.

Armie saw and chuckled. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” he said. He popped open the top and held it out. Tim shook his head.

“No thanks,” he said. “I’ll wait for real food.”

“I’m not asking,” Armie said. “Look, I’ll take a hit too.” 

He brought the packet to his lips and squeezed half of it in. 

“Yum,” he said. “Banana and chemicals.”

Tim snorted a laugh, and this time when Armie held out the packet he took it. He finished it off — and Armie was right, it tasted like banana and chemicals — and handed it back.

“Thanks,” he said genuinely. “It was just the exertion. I should have had a granola bar or something within the last couple of hours. I will tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow we’ll take more breaks,” Armie said decisively. “At least one per leg. And there are food stores here for us to choose from for lunch, we can take whatever we want. I’ll make sure to have enough for your overactive metabolism.” He reached out and poked Tim’s stomach, and Tim twisted away with a giggle.

Armie grinned at him.

“Ticklish?” he asked.

“Sometimes. Unfortunately,” Tim admitted. “That is not knowledge you should put to use, though. I’ve been known to land a kick or a punch at whoever is trying to tickle me.”

Armie’s eyes flashed with interest and he smirked. “That sounds like a challenge. You know how I feel about a challenge.”

Tim felt a quick flutter of excitement in his stomach.

“Feeling better?” Armie asked.

Tim took a deep breath. He did feel better. His vision was clearer and his limbs felt more solid. He was able to undo his pack in one try.

“Better,” Tim affirmed, shouldering the pack. “Come on, I want to see what kind of accommodations my auction donation bought me.”

“It’s not the Ritz,” Armie warned, “but it makes up for it with the view and the hot tub on the back porch.”

“Hot tub?” Tim asked.

“Hot tub,” Armie replied. “Let’s get a shower, make dinner, and I can show you.”

The idea of sharing a hot tub with Armie was enough to ignite another spike of adrenaline. It was a short journey from there to the realization that he was about to enter a cabin, alone with Armie...and there would no longer be any excuse to hold off on what they both clearly wanted. Tim swallowed hard, then squared his shoulders.

“Lead the way,” he said.

With a grin, Armie unlocked the front door.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _“Come on,” Tim said, feeling like he might combust. “You keep starting things and not finishing them. You’re the best closer in the firm but I’ve yet to see any evidence of—“_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 100% fiction. Enjoy!

The cabin really was rustic, Tim realized as he entered behind Armie. It was one large room. There was a kitchen along one wall, with a half-sized refrigerator, a sink, a small electric stove, and a small dining table, a living area with a rickety looking futon sofa facing a fireplace, and a bed — maybe queen-sized — in the far corner. There was a door on the right wall that led to a tiny bathroom, and a door on the far wall that led out to a deck. 

And that was the key. Tim’s feet carried him automatically across the room, out the door, and up to the railing looking out over the side of the mountain at the valley below. They were facing west, and the sun was arcing down towards the horizon, bathing the area in a golden hue. The greenery rolled over the modest New England slopes, looking rich and verdant and...peaceful. 

“Holy shit,” he whispered. 

Armie came to stand beside him, their shoulders brushing. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Stunning, isn’t it?”

They stood in silence for a few minutes, just taking in the sight. Then Armie gripped the back of Tim’s shirt, tugged him back inside, and nudged him towards the bathroom. Tim let out a small whine of protest, and then blushed at the involuntary expression. Armie rolled his eyes. 

“The goal is to get out there to enjoy the view, but we have things to do first. Why don’t you grab the first shower? I'll start dinner and you can finish while I shower.”

Tim nodded and started for the bathroom, ready to obey at the promise of food. Halfway there, he hesitated. Armie was already moving around the tiny kitchen, pulling out pots and rattling through utensils. Tim wondered what they were having for dinner. 

He was briefly tempted to tell Armie that dinner could wait, and ask the man to join him in the shower instead, but then he chickened out. Armie had said he liked it when Tim pushed, but he also seemed focused on his dinner task at the moment. Tim decided to be patient. 

Once in the bathroom, Tim let out a shaky laugh. He now understood why Armie had shuffled him off on his own. The shower was nothing more than a tiny stall, and there was no way they would both fit inside. He wondered if Armie would fit at all. He’d definitely have to duck way down to get his head under the spray. 

When he emerged ten minutes later, he was wearing a fresh pair of boxer briefs and the Yale t-shirt. He wondered if he should feel self-conscious walking around in his underwear, but decided it didn’t matter. Armie had already seen this essential outfit. Tim smiled at the memory of that morning as he made his way back over to the kitchen. 

On the stove, a pot of water was just coming to a boil, and Armie was tossing something around in a small frying pan. Tim inhaled through his nose, trying to identify the scent.

“Hot dogs?” he asked. Armie glanced over his shoulder and grinned. 

“You don’t like hot dogs?” he asked. 

“I like them,” Timmy said. He drew closer and peered around Armie. 

Round hot dog slices, plump from frying and blackened around the edges, sizzled in the dented aluminum pan. Armie turned off the burner and slid the pan off the heat. Then he picked up two blue boxes and poured their contents into the water. 

Tim grabbed a box as Armie set them aside to stir the contents of the pot. He laughed. 

“Macaroni and cheese?” he asked. “ _That’s_ what you’re making?"

“Too low-brow for your sophisticated palette?” Armie asked with a smirk. He picked up his phone and fiddled with it a moment. 

“No, I just thought you were...I mean you seem like it’s...I never thought you’d be into...you wear _really_ nice suits.” Tim stammered, trying to find his way out of the corner he was backing himself into. 

Armie laughed. Then he set the phone down and swooped in, taking Tim’s face in his hands and kissing him firmly. It was over too fast, Armie stepping away and crouching down to rummage in the tiny refrigerator while Tim stood, mouth hanging open and reaching for the counter to support his suddenly shaky legs. 

“You like doing that.” The words were out before he could stop himself, half accusation and half wondering. 

“Doing what? Kissing you?” Armie asked. He straightened up and set two beers on the counter. 

“Kissing me like...that. Without warning. And then retreating and leaving me feeling like...like…”

“Like what?” Armie’s gaze sharpened, his focus now completely on Tim. 

“You did it last night, too,” Tim said, sidestepping the question. “The first one.”

“Feeling like what, Tim?” Armie stepped closer, moved back into Tim’s space. He was close enough that Tim could lean forward and bump up against him. 

“Like I’m getting a glimpse of something I want,” Tim whispered, unable to believe he was speaking but also unable to stop, “but then it disappears behind a curtain again and I’ve lost it. It...aches.”

Armie hummed. He leaned in, and Tim tipped his head back, waiting for their lips to meet. Instead, Armie turned to the side and ran his nose along Tim’s cheekbone until his lips were hovering over Tim’s ear. He took a deep breath. 

“You smell all fresh and clean. Like springtime,” he said, his voice low and raspy. “I’m going to go shower now.”

Tim closed his hands into fists as his cock sprang to attention. “Okay,” he said shakily. 

Armie threaded his hand through Tim’s hair and then trailed a wet finger down his cheek to his chin. “When the timer goes off, strain the pasta and make the cheese sauce.

“Okay,” Tim said again. 

Armie stepped away. When Tim swayed forward at the loss of heat, Armie’s palm on his chest steadied him. “Instructions are on the box.”

Tim shook his head to clear it. “I know how to make mac and cheese.”

With a smirk, Armie strode across the cabin, snagging his backpack off the futon on the way. When he reached the door to the bathroom, he hesitated and then turned back. 

“Tim? It aches for me, too.” Then he closed the door and Tim was left alone. 

He let out a disbelieving laugh, then hugged himself and spun around. Suddenly in need of...something...he bolted for his bag and dug out his phone. He scrolled through his music until he found what he wanted and put it on with the volume turned high. 

He was twirling and dancing around the living room when he heard a distant beeping. _The pasta_. He darted back to the kitchen and managed to drain the pasta, add the cheese packets, and stir it together over a low flame. He was still doing this, singing along and wriggling his hips in time to the beat from his phone, when arms snaked around him from behind, flattening on his stomach and pulling him backward. 

Tim let go of the pasta spoon and surrendered his dancing, his breath catching in his throat. 

“Looks decent, I guess you do know how to make mac and cheese,” Armie murmured, breath tickling Tim’s ear. Then Armie fastened his lips to Tim’s neck and sucked, and the sensation went straight to his cock. He whimpered and covered Armie’s hands in his, pressing them more firmly to him. 

After a minute, during which Tim floated in a haze of sudden lust, Armie’s hands began to move. One drifted up towards his left nipple, skimming fingers over it and plucking at it when it popped to attention. The other drifted down, past Tim’s belly button and then to the right, skating past his stiffening cock to cup his balls. 

Tim keened. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, grinding his hips back until he found what he was looking for. Armie’s own cock pressed into him from behind, and they both shuddered. 

Armie peeled his mouth away from Tim’s neck. “Jesus Christ,” he said darkly. “I have a feeling this might kill me.”

“It—unnghhhh,” Tim began, but broke off in a moan as Armie swiped his hand in one firm stroke from the root of Tim’s cock to the tip, taking a moment to fondle the head through his boxers. 

“What was that?” Armie said, his voice rumbling low in his chest. 

“Dunno,” Tim mumbled. His hips jerked forward and back, shoving his clothed cock into Armie’s palm and then Armie’s cock along his crack, chasing both sides of the sensation. 

“We should have dinner,” Armie muttered, licking along Tim’s ear. “We need the fuel.”

“Uh huh,” Tim agreed. Armie swiped his palm up and down with increasing speed. Tim felt his orgasm building, and started to panic. He didn’t actually want to come in his pants like a teenager his first time with Armie. “Fuck, stop, you have to...Armie, I’m gonna come, I—“

“Don’t,” Armie said. “Not yet. I want you to come in my mouth later.”

“ _Fuck._ I can’t...oh _shit—_ “

Armie grabbed the base of Tim’s cock and squeezed, choking off his orgasm, and Tim’s breath stuttered. 

The need to come slowly subsided, and he managed to get himself under control, breathing rapidly. 

Armie slid his hands back up to Tim’s stomach and hugged him tight. “Okay now? Crisis averted?” he asked in a husky tone.

“Mmhmm.” Tim went limp against Armie, letting the man hold them both up. His legs felt like jelly again and his head was swimming. “You really want that?”

“What?” Armie began to pepper Tim’s neck with tiny kisses. 

“Me to come in your mouth.” Tim tilted his head to the side, exposing his neck as much as possible to Armie’s lips and tongue. 

”More than anything. And you will,” Armie said, scraping his teeth along Tim’s collarbone. “That was close though. Almost ruined my longtime fantasy of the very first orgasm I plan to wring out of you.”

“Whose fault is that?” Tim slurred. 

“Yours,” Armie said. “I get out of the shower and you’re over here wiggling that ass in my direction, what else was I supposed to do?”

Tim giggled. When it seemed like he had recovered enough to stand on his own, Armie released him, smacked the ass in question once, and then turned back to the dinner preparations. 

Tim leaned against the wall and watched as Armie opened and drained a can of peas and then added it and the fried hot dog slices to the pot. He stirred it up and then let it heat through while he quickly washed everything but the pot and the spoon. He let his gaze linger appreciatively on Armie’s ass. The man was wearing a similar outfit to Tim’s: boxer briefs and a soft old t-shirt. 

A few minutes later, they each held a heaping bowl of steaming yellow pasta. Armie snagged two beers out of the fridge, popped the caps off on the bottle opener attached to the wall, and led the way out to the back deck. The hot tub was already bubbling and steaming. Armie must have gotten it going while he was in the shower, Tim realized. 

They settled themselves in the big wooden rockers and ate in silence for a while, enjoying the food and the view. When Tim came up for air, he leaned back in his chair and sighed. 

Armie turned to look at him and smiled. “All done?” he asked. 

“Yeah. Stuffed. It was good, though. I’ve put hot dogs in mac and cheese before but I’ve never fried them first.”

“You have to fry them first,” Armie said. “That’s mac and cheese 101.” He smiled. “So what _did_ you think I was going to make us, in this tiny little efficiency cabin on the side of a mountain, stocked primarily with non-perishable foodstuffs?”

“Oh. I don’t know,” Tim said. “I think it’s fair to say, though...everything I thought I knew about you is wrong.”

Armie frowned. “Everything?”

“Well...not the work stuff. The work stuff is accurate. But I already said I never pictured you as the outdoorsy type. Less countryside and more country club, less mac and cheese and more cheese course, if you know what I mean.”

“Hmmm.”

Tim shot Armie a look. “These aren’t bad revelations,” he said. “I like that I wasn’t able to predict you. It also makes me…”

“Makes you…”

“Makes me interested to discover the rest of your hidden pieces.” Tim blushed a little, wondering if that sounded as stupid to Armie as it did to him.

But Armie was smiling at him. “Tell you what,” he said. “This weekend, I’m an open book. Ask me whatever you want, and I’ll tell you. Nothing hidden.”

“Deal,” Tim said. 

They talked a while then, Tim peppering Armie with questions. _What’s your favorite movie? Favorite band? Best vacation you ever took? Least favorite case you ever handled?_

“What are you most proud of?” Tim asked, once their second round of beers was long empty. “If you had to pick one thing you’ve done in your life to be remembered by, what would it be?”

Armie was quiet for so long, Timmy thought he’d maybe refuse to answer. Finally, he said, “I think maybe it’s that I walked away from my family.”

Surprised, Tim blinked at him, and Armie shrugged one shoulder. 

“I’ve told you we’re estranged, and that I’m better off that way. But it was more than that. My dad was very openly controlling, and my mother was highly manipulative. Between the two of them, I spent most of my childhood tied up in knots.” He sighed. “When I ultimately decided who I was, and who I wanted to be, they had an issue with it. I knew that continuing any kind of relationship with them would mean, at the very least, hiding a piece of myself. I also knew that it would be a constant fight between their egos and my identity. Walking away, and never looking back, was me claiming my own life for the first time.”

He stared out over the valley, a small frown on his face. Tim reached across the space and laid a hand on his. 

“Sounds like something to be proud of,” he said quietly. 

Armie glanced at him with a grateful smile. Then he stood and gathered up their plates and bottles. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.”

Tim settled back in his chair and closed his eyes. He thought over what Armie had said, feeling a swell of pride of his own over the story. He had been right to have a crush on this man, and what he had said earlier was true: every little thing he uncovered made him want to uncover more. He wondered how much he’d unearth before their weekend was up and they went back to normal life? 

Before Tim could dwell on the pang of regret he was feeling, the door opened, and Armie emerged once more. He was carrying two towels, which he draped over the railing to the right of the hot tub, the one facing the cabin next door. 

“How are your muscles?” he asked, turning to Tim. 

Tim stood and stretched. “Sore already,” he admitted. “Tightening up. It’s going to be a beast to get going in the morning.”

“Let’s see what we can do to prevent that,” Armie said, stepping over to Tim. “Do you trust me?”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “I trust you.”

“Good.” Armie took the hem of Tim’s t-shirt and pulled it up, slowly, his fingers skimming along Tim’s ribs. Then he yanked it over Tim’s head and tossed it to the ground. 

With a murmur of appreciation, Armie ran his hands over Tim’s chest and Tim arched towards him, letting out a shuddery breath as Armie’s fingers splayed across him from his abs to his nipples. 

“Jesus,” Tim said. “Your hands are so...big.”

“You like big, do you?” Armie said. “Interesting.”

Then he pulled his own t-shirt over his head and tossed it on top of Tim’s. Tim licked his lips at seeing the expanse of Armie’s tanned, muscular torso for the first time. 

“Disappointed?” Armie asked, and Tim laughed. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I mean, look at you. Who wants to look at _that_?”

He reached out and ran his fingers through the golden chest hair between Armie’s nipples, skimming his hands up and down and tugging at the hair gently. Armie gasped. Tim glanced up at him and his heart thudded in his chest at the sight of Armie’s eyes, pupils blown wide. 

Experimentally, he leaned forward and placed his lips over Armie’s left nipple. He sucked lightly, reveling in the slightly salty taste of Armie’s skin, then scraped it with his teeth. Armie grunted. 

“No?” Tim asked, his lips tickled by the soft hair on Armie’s left pec. 

“ _Yes_ ,” Armie said. 

Timmy switched to Armie’s right nipple, working it into a peak and teasing it with his teeth, his hands dancing across Armie’s abs and down, down, down.

But then Armie grabbed Tim’s wrists. “Let’s get in the hot tub,” he said. “The sun’s going to start setting, and I want you to see this.”

They sank into the warm water with twin groans. Tim felt the heat seep into his aching muscles and they began to release, one by one. After a few minutes he opened his eyes to find Armie watching him. 

He hesitated a moment, then slid along the bench so they were sitting side by side. Armie draped an arm over Tim’s shoulders and Tim snuggled in, feeling a mix of heady anticipation and peaceful contentment that shouldn’t have gone hand in hand but somehow did. 

The sun had sunk low in the sky, and had taken on a barely orange hue that meant it wasn’t going to be long before it descended towards the horizon. They watched it in silence for a while, but when the bottom of the orb had disappeared behind the top of the mountain in front of them, Armie moved. 

In one fluid motion, he pulled Tim from the bench beside him and resettled him between Armie’s legs, his ass nestled against Armies crotch. 

Tim got over his surprise at being manhandled in this way and leaned back against Armie’s chest. They sat like that a minute, Tim lulled by the motion of Armie’s chest as he breathed in and out and the gentle caress of the bubbles around them. Then Armie shifted him forward and began to knead at the muscles of his shoulders. 

Timmy groaned. He let his head fall forward and sank into the sensation of Armie’s hands working the tightness out of his muscles. 

“My big hands are good for something,” Armie murmured. Timmy hummed, teetering on the edge of relaxation and arousal. 

After a while, Armie pulled Tim back against him and kissed his neck. 

“Let’s go inside,” he whispered. “And I can get my hands on the rest of you.”

Tim’s stomach fluttered, and he nodded. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

They climbed out of the hot tub, and Armie turned it off and set it to clean. He tossed Tim one of the towels, and and they dried themselves off. Tim turned towards the door, but Armie stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“Wait,” he said, a glint in his eye. “The boxers will dry better out here.”

Tim flushed at the implication, and licked his lips. “You’re probably right,” he said. 

Armie stepped toward him. He reached out and laid his hands in Tim’s hips. “May I?” he asked. Tim nodded wordlessly. 

Armie tucked his fingers in the waistband of Tim’s boxers and peeled them off. The wet material clung to Tim’s skin, and Armie’s fingers were warm in contrast. Tim’s cock jumped and began to fill as Armie knelt in front of him to help him step out of the boxers. 

Then Armie stood, stepped back, and gazed at him, then palmed his own growing erection. 

“Shit,” he muttered. “You’re a fucking treat, aren’t you? I knew you would be.”

Tim blushed. “Now you,” he said. “Come on.”

Armie slipped out of his own boxers, and Tim cleared his throat. 

“Oh,” he said. 

“You said you liked big,” Armie reminded him. 

“Yeah I...yeah.” Tim felt a little lightheaded at the sight of Armie’s cock, lying long and half hard against his thigh. It was a beautiful deep color, and his mouth watered at the thought of getting his mouth around it. He’d never fit it all, but damn it if he didn’t want to try.

Armie hung both pairs of boxers over the railing and smiled at Tim. He turned, giving Tim a prime view of his ass, and led the way inside. 

As soon as the door closed behind them, Armie had Tim pressed up against it, his mouth crushed against Tim’s and his hands skimming up and down Tim’s body. Tim melted under the assault, parting his lips and letting Armie slide his tongue in. 

The other kisses had been good, but now, with the full length of Armie’s body flush against his, their heated skin coming into contact from head to toe, Tim felt almost dizzy. He wrapped his arms around Armie’s neck and surged up, lifting a leg as if he wanted to climb the man. 

Luckily, Armie got with the program. He grabbed Tim’s ass and lifted, and Tim wrapped his legs around Armie’s waist, bringing their erections together with a rough slide that made them break apart, gasping for breath. 

“Fuck,” Armie said. “Wait.”

“Wait?” Tim fastened his teeth to Arnie’s neck and bit down, pulling a grunt from the other man. “Don’t want to wait. Been waiting forever.”

“Yeah?” Armie kneaded Tim’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart. Tim shivered at the feeling of air against his hole. 

“Come on,” Tim said, feeling like he might combust. “You keep starting things and not finishing them. You’re the best closer in the firm but I’ve yet to see any evidence of—“

Armie’s mouth closed over his again, and they were on the move across the cabin. In a few seconds, Armie was depositing him on the bed and crawling on top of him. Tim braced his heels on the bed and thrust his hips up, sliding his cock along Armie’s again. They both moaned. 

“Only the best closer in the _firm_?” Armie asked, closing his teeth around Tim’s earlobe. “I thought you had a higher opinion of me."

"Prove yourself," Tim said.

With a growl, Armie began a journey down Tim’s body with his mouth. Tim writhed beneath him, as he licked and sucked and nibbled seemingly every inch of Tim’s skin. He spent a while on each nipple, and Tim whimpered, beads of pre-come welling up from his slit as his cock jerked and grew harder by the second. 

Tim’s eyes rolled back in his head when Armie traveled past this belly button, spread his legs wider, and nipped at the sensitive skin on the inside of his thighs, his hair brushing the side of Tim’s cock with a tantalizing tickle. 

He had imagined this so many times, but never had he imagined it like this. He’d always thought that Armie would be an explosive, demanding lover, manhandling him and fucking into him with focused abandon, making him orgasm over and over. Instead, he felt like he was being _worshipped._ Like Armie was treating him with reverence that he definitely did not deserve. 

_This was way better than anything he had imagined_.

When Armie’s mouth closed over the head of his cock, Tim cried out and smashed his fist against his mouth. 

Armie released his cock smiled up at him. “Okay?” he asked. 

“Mmmhmm,” Tim whimpered. “Just...do that again.”

“As you wish,” Armie said, and did. 

Tim moaned as the wet heat of Armie’s mouth engulfed him, working up and down with a delicious suction. Armie took him deeper and deeper until the head of his cock hit the back of Armie’s throat. Armie swallowed around him, and he felt everything tighten as his orgasm rushed in. 

“Fuck, Armie, I’m gonna—“

He broke off as the first wave of his orgasm hit and he came, bucking up. Armie grabbed his hips and pressed them firmly to the mattress, enveloping his cock in an intense suction, working Tim through it. It seemed to go on and on, until finally he fell back against the pillows, his legs falling weakly open. He became aware of a constant moaning sound that turned out to be him. 

Armie pulled off of him with a slurp, and he shuddered.

“Amazing,” Armie said, sliding back up his body and nuzzling at his neck. “Better than I ever dreamed it would be.”

Tim grabbed his face and pulled him up for a kiss, tasting Armie and himself and moaning again. 

“That was incredible,” he said. “Excellent closing argument. I'm sold. The verdict is in."

"Am I guilty or not guilty?" Armie asked.

"Mmmm. Guilty of making me come so hard I nearly passed out." He stretched and ran a finger down Armie's spine.  
"Give me a bit to recover and then you can fuck me.”

“Oh no,” Armie said. “That’s not happening tonight.”

“What? Why?” Timmy asked. 

“Because you have a long bike ride tomorrow and you’re sore enough.” Armie kissed his nose. “As much as I want to...it’ll have to wait another day.”

“Good point,” Timmy said. Then he pushed at Armie’s shoulder and rolled him onto his back. “In that case, it’s my turn.”

Armie grinned at him and folded his hands behind his head. “I’m all yours,” he said. “Do your worst.”

Later, they lay curled together, each making tiny movements — a roll of the hips, a brush of the hand, a light kiss — to revel in the sensation of being together. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Armie murmured into Tim’s ear. 

“Where else will you go?” Tim asked. “That futon looks like it’s about to fall to pieces. Try it, maybe we can get a settlement for unsafe conditions.”

Armie snickered, and then said, “Well, the cabin next door is ours too. I could go sleep there.”

“Seriously?” Tim lifted his head and peered down at Armie, his face barely visible in the shaft of moonlight that cut across the bed. 

“Yeah. What, did you think I planned to get naked with just anyone who bid on this trip?”

“I hope not,” Tim said with a giggle. 

“So should I go sleep over there?” Armie asked. 

Tim tightened his arms around Armie’s waist and snuggled in closer. “Definitely _not_ ,” he muttered. Then he tilted his head up for a kiss. “Stay here. Please.”

“You’re the boss,” Armie said. 

With a deep sigh of contentment, they drifted off to sleep. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tim could barely move the next morning. 
> 
> Everything hurt. Even his teeth hurt, and he didn’t know there were muscles there to be overworked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go (I think!).
> 
> 100% fiction, of course.

Tim could barely move the next morning. 

Everything hurt. Even his _teeth_ hurt, and he didn’t know there were muscles there to be overworked.

Since any sort of motion made him want to cry, he simply stayed where he was, and where he was was all right with him. Sometime during the night, Armie had rolled onto his back and Tim had apparently gone along, because he was sprawled across Armie’s chest and stomach. Tim’s cheek rested on Armie’s left shoulder. Their legs were tangled together, and one of Armie’s hands was splayed across Tim’s left buttcheek while the other was buried in Tim’s hair.

He couldn’t help but smile at the way Armie held onto him, even in sleep. 

Since Armie was still snoring lightly, Tim took the opportunity to peruse the left side of his face. Dark blonde stubble had sprouted along his jaw. His lips were slightly parted, vibrating with each noisy exhale. There was a bump on his nose that Tim wondered about; was it the result of a broken nose? If so, how had he broken it? Armie’s lashes spread across his cheek, and they were so pretty that Tim couldn’t resist shifting his head forward to give them a tiny kiss.

As soon as he moved, however, the pain gripped his neck, and he moaned.

Armie’s eyes flew open, his hands flexed against Tim. He turned his head. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “What’s the matter?”

Tim let his head thunk back down onto Armie’s shoulder. “Sore,” he mumbled. “No emergency. Just...everything hurts.”

Relief colored Armie’s eyes a deep blue, and he smirked. “All those muscles complaining from the workout yesterday?”

“I don’t understand it,” Tim said, pouting. “I totally work out. You _know_ I work out.” He paused. “Hey, I meant to ask you, how _do_ you know I work out? I’ve never seen you in that gym.”

“I must have seen you coming in or out,” Armie said. “Hey, do you trust me?”

Tim hesitated. “Enough to have fallen asleep with my junk pressed against yours.”

Armie laughed, and Tim bounced on his stomach, groaning again as his muscles protested. Then Armie moved, and suddenly Tim was on his back and Armie hovered above him, grinning. 

“Just let your muscles go limp,” Armie said. “Let me do the work.”

Tim’s breath caught at the sight of the face above him. The same face he had watched from a distance for years, now here, grinning at him, eyes sparkling. It was almost too much to take. So he just nodded as Armie sat back on his heels, straddling Tim’s stomach. 

Armie started with Tim’s left arm, picking it up and jiggling it until Tim let it go limp as instructed. Then he pulled and stretched it to the side, over Tim’s head, across his chest, finishing with a deep massage. 

Tim moaned. “That feels really good,” he breathed. 

“I’m just getting started,” Armie said with a smirk. 

He continued with Tim’s right arm, then scooted down the bed to Tim’s feet. 

It was about this time that Tim found himself unable to keep one particular part of his body relaxed. Armie picked up his left foot and massaged the sole, then bent his knee and pushed his calf up towards his stomach. 

“Mmmph,” Tim grunted, as Armie leaned on his bent leg. The stretch to his glutes was amazing, but also—

Armie glanced down and grinned. “Well, hello there,” he said. 

Tim sputtered defensively. “How am I supposed to react with your hands all over me and you breathing on my—“

Armie surged up and slid his body along Tim’s, cutting off his words with a kiss and a delicious grind. 

Muscle aches suddenly forgotten, Tim moved against him, relishing the slide of their cocks together. Armie rolled his hips down and Tim rolled his up, in a rhythm that was immediate and harmonious. At the same time, it was frantic and fast, and in minutes they both came on a pair of strangled cries. 

Afterwards, Armie lay atop him, his weight pressing Tim into the mattress. As they breathed heavily, their stomachs slick with come, Armie turned his head and kissed Tim’s neck. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked. 

Tim wiggled experimentally. “So much better,” he said with a sigh of relief. 

“We should get up,” he said. “Get cleaned up and eat something and hit the trail. Before your muscles seize up again.”

“Or we could just...stay here,” Tim said. “Not go and say we did.”

Armie chuckled. “Great idea. Only problem is that there isn’t any other way to get off the mountain except for on the bikes.”

“Then we can do it tomorrow.” Tim ran his hands up and down Armie’s back. “I can think of a few other ways to pass the time until then.”

“We’d have to take an extra day from work. Seems like the guy who was so sure he couldn’t afford to go on this weekend at all would be a little less enthusiastic about such a thing.”

“You’re very persuasive,” Tim murmured. “You convinced me I was expendable.And that wasn’t really about not wanting to take time off, it was—“

“It was what?” Armie asked, when Tim didn’t continue. 

Tim squirmed a little. He didn’t really want to finish that thought. “It was...that I didn’t think you really wanted to spend a weekend with some associate,” he lied. “I was giving you an out.”

Armie pushed up on his elbows and peered down at Tim. “How does it feel to be so very wrong?” he asked. Then he kissed Tim firmly and rolled out of bed. 

“Take the first shower, keep your muscles warm. I’ll make breakfast,” he called over his shoulder. 

Tim watched him stride across the cabin to the kitchen, admiring the view. 

The morning ride was just as hard as the second leg of the previous day had been. Armie seemed to be riding with a single-minded focus, and it was all Tim could do to keep up. When they pulled off the trail for lunch, his heart was racing and the adrenaline made him bold. 

He beat Armie to the rickety picnic table and hopped onto it with a grin. Armie raised an eyebrow. 

“What are you smiling at?” he asked. He tossed the backpack on the table behind Tim. 

“I’m smiling at this...guy. I’ve been watching his ass since this morning, and I think I’ve got a shot with him.” Tim flung his hair back and shrugged. “What do you think, am I right?”

Armie stepped close and ran his hands up Tim’s thighs from his knees to his hips. “I don’t know. Who is this guy, anyway? Because I’m the jealous type.”

His voice was just low and dangerous enough that Tim could almost imagine there was some truth to the statement. He’d believe it. Armie was fierce and protective of his clients and cases, no reason he should be any different with _people_ in his life. 

Tim felt the shiver of thrill followed immediately with a pang of regret. It’s not like he’d get to be the recipient of that jealousy. This was temporary. But since it _was_ temporary, he was going to stop hesitating and really have some fun. Armie didn’t seem like he’d mind. 

So Tim blinked and said, “He’s kind of...big. You think you could take him?”

Armie’s thumbs swept twin arcs on Tim’s stomach, and then he leaned in and pressed his mouth to Tim’s. The kiss was urgent and forceful, and Tim surrendered to the assault instantly. Their tongues slid together as Armie pressed him back onto the table. Tim fisted his hands in Armie’s hair and tugged. A hand cupped under his right thigh and guided it up, and he used his other leg to thrust up and into Armie. 

Armie groaned and dragged his lips from Tim’s mouth to his ear. “How fast can you eat?” he asked.

“Why?”

“Because I want to get back on the trail and finish this ride.”

Tim smiled up at the canopy of trees. 

Lunch was sandwiches assembled by Tim that morning from the supplies at the cabin. 

“What’s in this?” Armie asked, eyeing his sandwich suspiciously. 

“Peanut butter,” Tim replied. He bit into his sandwich and made a satisfied humming sound. 

“It feels lumpy,” Armie said. He went to separate the bread to examine the contents, but Tim stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

“Don’t you trust me?” he asked, echoing Armie’s question from that morning. “Come on, live dangerously.”

Armie rolled his eyes and took a large bite. He made a face, but then smiled. “Apples. You put apples in the peanut butter sandwich.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s...unexpected. Which...shouldn’t surprise me anymore, to be honest.”

Tim squinted at Armie. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Well…” Armie winked. “Everything, since the moment I walked through that door to congratulate the little blonde woman on her purchase and found _you_ , has been unexpected.”

After a moment, Tim glanced down at the table and said, “Yeah. For me, too.” 

When he looked up, Armie was grinning at him. 

They ate quietly for a minute, and then Armie said, “You’re not expendable, you know.”

“What?” Tim asked, confused at the sudden shift in topic. 

“This morning. You said when you were resisting this weekend, that I had persuaded you that you were expendable. I never said that.” 

“Oh.” Tim waved it away with a hand. “It’s okay. It’s probably a healthy outlook. I know that if I resigned on Tuesday, twenty-seven other people would already be lined up to take my place. It’s the nature of the job.”

Armie frowned. “I’m not saying that the firm would self-destruct if you left, but you're not just some easily replaceable associate. I don’t want you to think that.”

“I don’t,” Tim said. 

“Good. Because it’s true. You’re a damned good lawyer and we’re lucky to have you.”

Tim flushed, and he began to shred the remainder of his sandwich into tiny bites. “Thanks,” he said. “I mean, I just do my job.”

“No, it’s more than that,” Armie said. “You came up with that strategy that took the four-hundred-million dollar class action claim down to a two million dollar settlement. And that was in your second year.”

“I didn’t know you knew about that,” Tim said. It was true; an offhand question he had asked had developed into the thing that crumbled the plaintiffs’ case. 

“I read the bulletins,” Armie said. 

“That part wasn’t in the bulletin.”

“People talk.” Armie shrugged. “You also took down that witness in the Cooper trial, sent them scrambling and begging for a plea.”

“I...yeah. I did do that,” Tim admitted. “People really pay attention that closely?”

“Of course they do. Otherwise you wouldn’t be making partner so soon.” Armie’s gaze turned serious. “People know that you’ve started bringing in clients, and have been successfully managing cases for years. You’re an asset. It doesn’t go unnoticed. So...you’re not expendable. To the firm, I mean.”

Tim was silent for a minute, and then simply said, “Thanks.”

Later, when they pulled into the trailhead a full hour and a half ahead of schedule, Tim was sure his lungs were about to burst, but he didn’t care. He was glad for the race, because he _really_ wanted to get to their next lodging, and it seemed Armie was equally impatient. 

Armie had called ahead during lunch, and Garrett was there to meet them with his van and a toothy smile.

“How’d it go?” he asked. “All in one piece _and_ early, I can't decide if that’s a good sign or a bad sign.”

“It was great, G,” Armie said. He handed over his bike and unbuckled his helmet. “The trails are looking good.”

“And what about you?” Garrett turned to Tim. “Not so bad?”

“I loved it,” Tim said earnestly. “I mean, aside from the sore muscles...I had a lot of fun.”

“Cabins were okay too?” 

Tim shot a look at Armie, who grinned. “In perfect shape. As always. We were very comfortable.”

Garrett winked. “Awesome. Climb on in, I’ll get you to your lodging.”

The ride from the trailhead was as beautiful as the ride to where they had begun. Tim expected them to move from the serene landscape to something a little closer to civilization, since they would be staying at a hotel near the airport that night, but they seemed to be winding further into the wilderness. 

Armie placed a hand on his knee and left it there during the drive, occasionally moving his thumb in a slow circle that was making Tim go slowly insane. 

“Problem?” Armie asked at one point as Tim shifted in his seat once more. 

“No,” Tim said. “No problem.”

Armie leaned in close. “I hope you’re not too tired after our ride today,” he murmured, his lips brushing against Tim’s ear. “Because there are other activities on the itinerary and I wouldn’t want you to feel you didn’t get your money’s worth out of this weekend.”

Tim turned his head and kissed Armie, then let his teeth sink into the man’s lower lip hard enough to draw a gasp. 

“Definitely not too tired,” he said. “And I’m not planning on wasting a second of the rest of this trip.”

Armie grinned. 

The van pulled off the main road and trundled along a narrower path shielded by trees. The path opened up suddenly to a large cabin that looked nothing like either the airport hotel Tim had expected or the rustic accommodations they’d stayed in the night before. But there was their rental car, sitting in the driveway. 

“Wait,” Tim said. “I thought—“

“I made a few last minute changes to the reservations,” Armie said. “I hope that’s okay.”

Garrett opened the door for them and they climbed out onto the gravel drive. He handed Armie the keys to the rental car.

“Your things are inside the house,” he said.

“And...everything else?” Armie asked.

“All set,” Garrett replied with a wink.

“What else?” asked Tim.

No one answered him. Instead, Garrett shook his hand. “Good to meet you, Tim. Armie’s been coming out here alone for too long, it’s good he’s got a partner.”

_Like yesterday,_ Tim thought. Garrett was assuming that he and Armie were _together._ Well, he supposed they were, for the moment. He felt a pang, knowing that in twenty-four hours, they’d return to their regular lives and probably never speak of this again.

His smile faltered, but he said, “Thanks for everything, I really had a great time.”

Armie clapped Garrett into a bear hug, and then the van was rolling off, scattering gravel every which way, and they were alone.

“What do you think?” Armie asked, sweeping his hand out around them.

Tim took in the cabin, which looked large and much, _much_ fancier than the one they had stayed in the night before. It was two stories, and there was a sprawling wraparound porch, giant floor-to-ceiling windows, and beams as far as the eye could see.

“It looks incredible,” Tim said. He returned his gaze to Armie, saw the hesitant, almost hopeful look on his face, and grinned. He might have less than twenty-four hours left in this fantasy-come-to-life, but he could make the most of it.

He stepped in to Armie, turned his face up, and kissed him gently. 

“Come on, let’s get inside,” he said. “Like I said, I don’t want to waste time.”

Armie kissed him back, a little less gently. “Always so concerned with efficiency,” he mumbled. “You have to learn to slow down. Enjoy things a little.”

Then he took Tim’s hand and led him up the drive to the cabin. He produced a key that fit smoothly in the lock, and then it was swinging open, and Tim gasped.

The inside of the cabin was more stunning than the outside. They entered into a massive great room with a two-story ceiling and a stone fireplace on the far wall. The exposed beams were a rich honey color, and comfortable seating was arranged in pockets around the large room. To the left, the space opened to a dining area with a long table and an open kitchen with what looked like state-of-the-art appliances. To the right, a staircase led up to a loft on the second floor and rooms beyond.

“Holy shit,” Tim said. “This place is amazing. How the hell big is it?”

“There are four bedrooms,” Armie said. “Do you see the—”

But Tim was already moving forward, drawn to the giant windows in the far wall. He stopped with his nose to the glass, gaping out at a view that was even more stunning than the ones he’d seen so far.

“Hey,” he said. “I thought we were coming down out of the mountains, staying closer to town tonight.”

Armie shrugged, coming up beside him. “I thought you’d like this better,” he said. “It just means a slightly longer drive in the morning instead of today. That okay, or would you prefer to—”

“It’s amazing,” he said.

“Well, we got here early, and we’ve got all night,” Armie said. “You want a shower now, or are you hungry?”

At the mention of food, Tim’s stomach growled, and Armie laughed. “Okay, wait here.”

Tim watched as he strode back across to the kitchen, rummaged around in the refrigerator, and emerged with a large platter of cheeses and fruit. He unwrapped it from its plastic, and then returned the to refrigerator for a bottle of white wine. He held it up.

“White okay?” he asked. “It’ll go better with what’s here, but if you’d prefer there’s other bottles.”

Tim nodded. “Where did that come from?” he asked. 

“Nowhere,” Armie said. He uncorked the wine, retrieved two wine glasses from a cabinet, and filled them. He handed one to Tim and picked up the platter. “Let’s go outside.”

They exited the cabin through a set of double doors that opened onto a wide back porch. Armie led the way past a large grill to a seating area, arranged everything on the small coffee table, and gestured for Tim to have a seat on the sofa. In moment, Tim was sipping on his wine and nibbling on cheese. 

Armie sank down next to him and held up his glass. “To a really good ride, some much-needed time away from the office, and...forging new bonds.”

Tim clinked his glass against Armie’s. “I’ll drink to all of that,” he said.

They sat in silence for a while, some of the ride fatigue catching up with Tim as he sank into Armie’s side. There was a comfortable pocket there, where he seemed to just...fit. After a while, Armie spoke up again.

“You’re having a good time, right?” he said. “No regrets?”

Tim shook his head. “No regrets,” he said. Those would for sure come later, when he was alone at home once more. But he’d never regret this time with Armie. He couldn’t.

“Good.” Armie said.

Tim smiled at him, and on impulse, he grabbed a strawberry off of the tray. He held it up to Armie with a smirk. “Open up,” he said.

Armie obediently parted his lips and Tim slipped the strawberry between them and immediately realized his mistake. Watching Armie’s lips around the strawberry put him in mind to seeing Armie’s lips around _him_ instead, and his mouth went dry.

As soon as Armie had finished chewing the strawberry and the stem was discarded, Tim shifted to straddle him, licking the juice from his chin and nibbling on his red-stained lips. Armie was still for a moment. Then his hands gripped Tim’s ass and he yanked him close. Their tongues tangled together, and Tim moaned at the taste of Armie blended with the tangy taste of the fruit.

When they broke apart, Tim looked into Armie’s eyes and said, “Do it now.”

“Do...what now?” Armie asked.

“Me,” Tim said. “I’ve — we’ve waited long enough. I want you to fuck me.”

Armie’s hands flexed on Tim’s ass. “Always in such a hurry,” he said. “I’ve noticed that before.” He nipped at Tim’s chin. “Listen, I want that too,” Armie said. “You know I do. But can you...wait a little longer?”

Tim frowned, and climbed off of Armie. “Yeah. I mean, I just thought—“

“You thought right. But I’ve got...come with me.” Armie stood and took Tim’s hand. He grabbed the now empty wine glasses and handed them to Tim, and then picked up the remains of the fruit and cheese platter, and led them back into the house. 

After depositing the items on the kitchen counter, Armie pulled Tim up the stairs and down the hall. They entered a large master bedroom with more floor-to-ceiling windows that faced the view. 

“Woah,” Tim said, spotting the glass door. “There’s another balcony up here?”

“Yeah,” Armie said. “It’s actually why there’s a coffee maker on the wet bar. No better spot to watch the sunrise. Come on.”

He pulled Tim into an attached bath, then let go of his hand to reach into the double shower — with... _six_ showerheads, Tim counted — and turned on the water. 

When he turned back to Tim, he looped a finger in his waistband and tugged him forward. “I thought shower first, and then dinner.”

Tim eyed the giant shower and grinned. “You know, yesterday when you sent me to shower while you started dinner, I was disappointed.”

Armie laughed. “We’d never have both fit in there,” he said. “But _here—_ “

“Shhhh. Less talking, more getting naked,” Tim murmured. He grabbed Armie’s shirt and yanked it up. They quickly peeled each other out of their clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor, and then Armie backed into the shower, pulling Tim with him. 

They entered the steamy enclosure already kissing, the heat swirling around them and creating a cocoon that Tim never wanted to leave. With the shower door closed, he felt like the entire world had narrowed to just the two of them and the sensation of their mouths and skin. 

Armie finally broke the kiss and turned Tim around. Suddenly his hands were massaging Tim’s scalp, and Tim sighed. Why was something as simple as getting shampooed enough to make him melt? He wasn’t sure, but melt was what he was about to do.

Before he could, Armie was rinsing Tim’s hair and starting on his own. Tim found his legs again and located the shower gel. While Armie’s hands were busy in his own hair, Tim slicked the soap over Armie’s chest. He smiled at Armie’s rumbling groan when he skimmed his thumbs over the man’s nipples and traced a line down to his cock, which was straining for attention. 

Armie managed to rinse his hair and then plastered Tim against one tiled wall, wrists caught in one hand above Tim’s head while he executed a series of perfect slow grinds. Tim closed his eyes and whined at the slide of their bodies together, the high-pitched sound echoing in the enclosed space. 

He’d had plenty of fantasies about Armie over the years. How had he never come up with this scenario?

Armie pulled him away from the wall and spun him around. 

“Stay still,” he murmured in Tim’s ear. Anticipation flickered along Tim’s spine as he waited for what was to come next. 

Hands, filled with cool soapy gel, moved up and down his back, and he shivered at the touch. The hands glided over his ass and between his cheeks, and he sucked in a breath as Armie’s fingers fluttered across his hole. 

Legs shaking, he collapsed back against Armie, who laughed in his ear and wrapped an arm around his waist. He slid a soapy hand down over Tim’s stomach, and Tim let out a shuddery breath. The hand curled around Tim’s cock and he moaned, thrusting his hips forward into Armie’s hand and then back, to where Armie’s cock was sliding along his ass. 

“Let’s take the edge off,” Armie said. 

“Or you could fuck me now,” Tim said. 

“Soon,” Armie said. “Trust me.”

His fist moved over Tim’s cock harder and faster, and Tim could only hang on for dear life. 

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Armie —“

Before he got another word out, he was coming, exploding over Armie’s hand and whimpering as Armie stroked him through the aftershocks. 

Armie rinsed them both off before turning off the water, continuing to support Tim’s weight with one arm. He chuckled. 

“Can you walk?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” Tim giggled. He stepped out of the shower, and Armie tossed him a fluffy towel. 

Tim dried himself off and followed Armie out of the steamy bathroom into the blissfully cool bedroom. 

“Wait here,” Armie said, before disappearing into a closet and leaving Tim to look around. 

It was a beautiful bedroom. Everything was comfortable-looking. Luxurious, but more homey than a typical hotel or rental might be. He wondered idly of this was someone’s home that they rented out. 

It must be, he realized, when he spotted some books on the nightstand. He squinted at the titles. A memoir written by a famous lawyer, a biography of an art thief, a crime novel.

_Hang on_ , he thought. He straightened up and looked around. Coffee maker on the wet bar, like Armie had said, so easily. _No better spot to watch the sunrise_ , he had said, as if he’d done it a million times before. 

Armie emerged from the closet wearing a grey robe and carrying a deep blue one, which he offered to Tim. He stopped at the look on Tim’s face. 

“Something wrong?” he asked. 

“Where _are_ we?” Tim asked. “What is this place?”

“Oh.” Armie ran a hand through his hair and his Adam’s apple bobbed once. “This is...my place, actually.”

Tim stared at Armie, something crackling in his chest. 

Armie shrugged. “So what do you think?”

“Of...your place?” Tim asked. 

“Yeah. Do you like it?”

Tim nodded, but he didn’t take his eyes off Armie. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think the Great Armie Hammer was _nervous._

“It’s stunning,” Tim said. “But why didn’t you...why weren’t we going to stay here the whole time? Why didn’t you say—“

Armie pushed a robe into his hands. “Put this on.” 

Tim dropped his towel and slipped his arms into the robe. It was soft and light against his skin. Armie leaned down and kissed him.

“Let’s go downstairs and make dinner, and I’ll explain.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! Thanks so much for coming on this ride with me and the boys. Hope you enjoyed it!

Ten minutes later, Tim discovered that “let’s make dinner” meant he would be perched on a stool with a glass of wine while rice simmered on the stove and Armie chopped vegetables like a professional chef. 

He watched the knife fly through the mushrooms and shallots and broccoli and shook his head. 

“You’re like an onion,” he blurted out. 

Armie paused and looked up, brow furrowed. “Flaky skin, smelly, and tear-inducing?”

“No,” Tim laughed. “Just...so many more layers than I expected. Where did you learn to do that?”

“Oh. I watch mindless television when I can’t sleep or need to tune out the world. Often it’s cooking shows.”

Tim tried to imagine Armie, in what would no doubt be a stunning Manhattan apartment, watching competitive cooking in the middle of the night, the light from the television flickering on his tired features. 

“I get that,” Tim murmured. “I do it too.”

“Watch cooking shows? Have insomnia?”

“For me, it’s usually old game shows on YouTube, but...same idea. Except I’m not sure there’s the opportunity for me to learn how to yell _no whammies_ the way you seem to have picked up knife skills.”

Armie laughed as he opened a package of chicken breasts. “Don’t be so sure. With some judges you probably _want_ to yell about no whammies.”

“Truth,” Tim agreed. He watched with interest as Armie placed the chicken between two layers of plastic wrap. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to make the chicken a uniform thickness so it cooks evenly.” Armie dug around in a drawer and produced a large silver mallet. “You know what? Come around and try it. It’s fun.”

Tim set his wine aside and hopped off the stool. Armie handed him the mallet. 

“Now, you don’t need to hit it too hard—“

But Tim was already whacking the chicken gleefully. After a half dozen hits, Armie caught his wrist. 

“Okay, that’s good. We don’t actually need pancakes.”

Tim blushed, but Armie was grinning. He bent down and kissed Tim, then sent him back to his stool. 

“Sorry,” Tim said with a shrug. “It _was_ fun.”

“You just jump right in, don't you?” Armie said with a shake of his head. 

“Oh, I do plenty of overthinking,” Tim said. “But maybe after this weekend I’ll be a little more...willing to take a risk. Sometimes they pay off.”

Tim couldn’t decipher the look Armie shot his way, and it was gone in an instant. As Armie mixed flour, salt, and pepper in a shallow dish, Tim decided to get back to his earlier question. 

“So if this is your place,” he asked, “why weren’t we staying here the entire time? Why the hotel by the airport? Why the cabin? There must be plenty of loop trails we could do from here.”

“There are,” Armie said. He dredged the chicken in the flour and then laid it carefully in a pan. “But...I wasn’t planning on letting some random person who’d won the auction bid into my house.”

Tim thought that over. Armie hadn’t even _mentioned_ this place in the lead up to or during the weekend. He was struck again by how little he knew about the man outside of the office, despite having watched him for years. Not that he necessarily should have known about Armie’s vacation home, but...then again, he happened to know about the vacation properties of plenty of other partners, because they bragged about them. 

“Who knows you have this place?” Tim asked. 

Armie busied himself turning the chicken over and dropping the broccoli into a steamer before turning back to Tim. He shrugged. “You do.”

“Just...just me?” 

“I don’t want people to start inviting themselves here or asking to use it. It’s my space, and it’s an escape, and the last thing I want is for the office to spill into it. So I’m fairly private about it. About a lot of things, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Tim _had_ noticed. He had noticed that before the weekend, at least, but since it started Armie had been opening up to him from the beginning. About his family, his stresses from work, his interest in Tim…

“Then...why am I here?” Tim asked. 

“Are you going to go blabbing about it — or anything else — to everyone at work?” Armie asked. 

“Of course not,” Tim said. 

Armie nodded. “I didn’t think so.”

Tim digested that info as Armie transferred the chicken to a platter and then added the mushrooms, shallots, and garlic to the pan, followed a few minutes later by wine and chicken broth. The kitchen smelled amazing, and Tim’s mouth watered. 

When the chicken was back simmering in the sauce, Armie pulled dishes out of the cupboard and then pointed an elbow at a drawer. 

“Time to pull your weight. Grab utensils from in there and another bottle of wine from the fridge.”

Tim followed Armie’s lead in setting the dining table, one place at an end and the other beside it. Then Armie plated the chicken, rice, and broccoli, and they settled in. 

The first bite had Tim moaning. “This is amazing,” he said. “Wow, you can really cook. And not just mac and cheese with hot dogs.”

Armie laughed. “Thanks. You could learn, too.” He tapped a finger on Tim’s temple. “I’m pretty sure that brain can learn anything.”

Flushing at the compliment, Tim focused on his food for a minute. Then he said, “Do you always cook for yourself?”

“A fair bit,” Armie said. “I’m just as guilty of living off of takeout as anyone else when things are busy, but I do like cooking, so I try.” 

“I never cook,” Tim said. “I mean, I can cook some things, but I never got into it, and cooking for just one person can be kind of...lonely. Maybe if I knew more about it, I’d do it more.”

Armie nudged Tim’s foot under the table. “Are you angling for lessons? Trying to get me to take pity on you and cook for you once we’re back in the city?”

“Oh, I didn’t mean...no, I just meant maybe I should try to learn.” Tim shook his head, embarrassed. While the _idea_ of going to Armie’s place and getting cooking lessons, or cooked _for_ , was exactly what he wanted, he didn’t want Armie to think he was expecting anything. 

Because he wasn’t. 

He cleared his throat. “How long have you had this place?” he asked, in an attempt to change the subject. 

“About five years,” Armie said. 

The conversation meandered from there. Armie asked Tim about why he went to law school, about his parents, about his grandmother. Tim asked Armie about what it had felt like to make partner, about his own school experience, about friends. 

“I don’t have many,” Armie said. “A few buddies from law school who I see every now and then. I spent so much time working for so long, and my time became so valuable, that I ended up deciding to let a lot of people slide into the realm of ‘acquaintance.’”

“Have you had a lot of relationships?” Tim asked. “Sorry, that’s super personal. I didn’t mean to—“

Armie waved the concern away with one hand. “Open book, remember? A couple. Nothing...important.”

“Are you lonely?” Tim asked. 

“I’m not, usually. I socialize plenty, for business, and so I don’t have much time to be lonely. What little time I have...for the most part I don’t mind my own company.” He poured some more wine in both glasses. “What about you? Lot of friends...or boyfriends...demanding your attention?”

“Some friends,” Tim said. “I get what you mean about focusing on the smaller group that matters. I have a few people I keep up with regularly and a wider circle I stay in touch with on social media.”

“Boyfriends?”

“No I’m not sure I’m...relationships have taken a back burner,” Tim said with a shrug. “I’ve seen people, but nothing ever gets serious. I don’t know why.”

“Do you get lonely?” Armie asked. 

Tim hesitated. “I think I’m not as well-adjusted as you.” He sighed. “Because...yeah. Sometimes.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes, and then Armie says, “Well...now there’s someone else you can call.” When Tim looked at him, wondering what he was talking about, Armie laughed. “Me. I meant me.”

“Oh. Right.” Tim grinned, a warmth blooming in his chest. “And the extra benefit is that if I need to stress-babble about my cases I won’t be breaking attorney-client privilege.”

“That’s one benefit,” Armie said. He stood and gathered the long-empty plates, utensils, and napkins. “Why don’t you have a seat somewhere over there,” he gestured to the rest of the great room with his chin. “And I’ll be right over.”

Tim took both wine glasses, topped them off, and wandered over to a sofa by the fireplace. He set the glasses on the coffee table and sank into the cushions with a sigh. 

“When did you decide we were going to stay here?” Tim asked, running his fingers along the soft fabric of his robe. 

“Um...I called Garrett this morning,” Armie replied. “Asked him to deliver the car, our bags, and some supplies here instead.”

“I’m glad you did,” Tim said. “I like seeing...it.”

“What?” Armie asked, crossing the room. He peered down at Tim, who let his head fall back on the sofa.

“A space that’s yours. It fills you out a little.”

Armie laughed. Then he plopped onto the sofa beside Tim. “Come here.”

Tim turned towards Armie, and Armie’s lips were on his. He opened his mouth, and sighed as their tongues met. Armie shifted, laying Tim out on the sofa and covering his body, their chests and hips pressed together. Tim spread his knees and curled his calves behind Armie’s, and sank into the sensation. 

The kissing went on for ages. All the urgency Tim had been feeling earlier had evaporated, and he felt like he could be happy just like this all night. The small movements of Armie’s hips teased their cocks together, and the lazy, languid strokes of their tongues was like a drug. The thin, soft fabric of the robes couldn’t contain the warmth radiating from their skin, and if Tim could pick one thing to add, it would be a chance to feel Armie from head to toe. 

He ran his palms up Armie’s back and around to his chest, tugging open the robe and slipping it off Armie’s shoulders. Armie cooperated by letting Tim pull his arms out one by one, and then Tim sighed, sliding his fingers up and down Armie’s spine and to his narrow waist. He slipped his hands underneath the robe to cup Armie’s ass, and squeezed. 

Armie grunted and pulled back. He stared down at Tim, a smile and...something else in his eyes. Then he reached down and undid the belt on Tim’s robe, pulling it open. 

“So beautiful,” he breathed, skimming his hand down Tim’s chest and then up to his neck. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone else who compares.”

“Stop,” Tim said. “Come on, you don’t have to flatter me. I’m already—“

“It’s not flattery if it’s a fact,” Armie said. “When you walked into my office eight years ago, you knocked me on my ass, and you’ve just gotten better every year.”

“Well...same,” Tim said. “Jesus, I’ll never forget it. The door opened, and suddenly there _you_ were, looking like god himself had planned you out cell by cell. I didn’t think I’d make it through the interview, I was so…”

“Really?” Armie squinted at Tim. “You’re not just...you seemed confident. Not thrown at all.”

“Poker face,” Tim said. “And it’s funny that you said you didn’t want to hire me, because I kept thinking that maybe I should sabotage the interview and ask you out instead.”

The way Armie kissed him then was enough to make Tim’s toes curl. When he pulled away, Tim made a small desperate noise and tried to drag him back. Armie chuckled. 

He got to his feet, slid his arms back into his robe, and held out a hand. “Come to bed with me?”

Tim nodded and let himself be pulled to his feet. Armie gripped his hand and led him back up the stairs and into the master suite, where he flipped on the light and then adjusted it to half brightness with a dimmer. 

Armie walked backwards toward the bed, his eyes on Tim, and Tim shook a little at the intensity he saw in the depths of blue. He kept expecting the frantic urgency to return, but instead they seemed to be floating in a space that time couldn’t quite touch.

Tim shrugged out of his loose robe and let it fall to the floor in a puddle, and then tugged at Armie’s belt until his robe met the same fate. He stepped toward Armie and was caught up in a warm embrace, Armie’s mouth sucking gently at his neck and Armie’s hands dancing over every inch of his exposed skin. 

He let himself fall, sinking into Armie without hesitation. A moment later, Armie lifted him right off the ground and laid him out on the bed, crawling after him to continue his sampling at Tim’s neck. When Armie’s lips began a journey south, Tim’s legs fell open and his sighed. 

Every touch was like a song, as if Armie was plucking at him and creating music. He moved with the hands that tickled at all the pockets of his body, shuddering and letting out breathy moans that seemed to spur Armie on. When Armie closed his mouth around Tim’s cock, there was no burst of arousal, because Tim was already strung out on _want_ , and he arched his back and lifted his hips and _pushed_ deep inside. 

When Armie’s fingers began to probe at his hole, he whimpered and pulled himself farther apart. What he didn’t expect was the wet lick that followed, and he gasped and raised his head to see Armie’s face buried against him as his tongue pushed at Tim’s entrance and set off sparks of electricity that had him uttering low curses and unintelligible grunts. 

By the time Armie had crawled back up Tim’s body and latched onto his mouth once more, Tim was stretched thin. And yet still, he didn’t feel desperate...just filled with a heady pleasure. 

“You ready?” Armie asked gruffly against his mouth. Tim felt the blunt head of Armie’s cock against his hole, dimly aware that there was lube involved that must have come from somewhere. 

“Yes,” Tim whispered. “So ready for you.”

Armie shifted, and slipped an inch inside. Normally, at this stage, Tim would have to talk himself into relaxing, to let the intrusion happen. This time, he was already loose and relaxed. He gripped Armie’s hips and pulled gently. 

“More,” he said. “Please, all at once. I need to feel you.”

On a deep kiss, Armie moved, and sank all the way into Tim’s heat. He cried out, but there was no pain at all, just a delicious stretch and a shivery satisfaction.

“Yes,” he said. “Perfect. Better than I—“

Armie pulled out almost all the way and slid back in, and words failed Tim. He gave up forming them and reverted to a series of moans as his consciousness exploded with pleasure. 

Tim couldn’t say how long they were joined. A few minutes, an hour, a lifetime. The world faded away and all he could see was Armie’s eyes, all he could feel was Armie’s cock and his hands and his lips, all he could experience was a long, slow ride to everything he’d ever wanted. 

At some point, Armie’s hand closed over Tim’s cock, and he whispered, “Come with me, please,” and Tim did, muscles clenching and releasing, Armie’s moans in his ear. 

Afterwards, they lay in the dim light, tangled together and panting. 

“Thank you.” Tim pressed his lips to Armie’s temple. “It was better than I ever even wanted it to be.”

“Worth the wait?” Armie asked, his voice slurred. 

“Definitely.”

He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew he was being tucked under a comforter as Armie was curling around him and whispering in his ear that he should go back to sleep. Tim cuddled into Armie and was only too happy to oblige. 

* * *

In the morning, Tim woke with Armie still wrapped around him, but the man was awake. He felt a burst of elation — he’d slept with _Armie Hammer_ — followed by a wave of despair. It was morning, which meant that they’d need to get up and get going. Go back to New York, back to their lives. 

Leave this behind. 

“Morning,” Armie said, nuzzling into Tim’s neck. 

“Morning,” Tim replied. He wanted this to go on forever, but maybe if it couldn’t, he should just get it over with. He wiggled away and out of bed. 

“Where are you going?” Armie asked. 

“Bathroom?” Tim said. He didn’t know why it sounded like a question, but he darted into the bathroom and closed the door. 

Once inside, he did use the bathroom, the. Washed his hands and tried to tame his curls. Should he shower? Wait for Armie?

He’d always been decent at the morning-after awkwardness. Most of his adult life had been peppered with it, after all, and with enough practice anything becomes easy. So why did it seem so difficult this time?

_Because you don’t want this to be it,_ he reminded himself. He’d been thinking of this like his fantasies coming true, but in reality, his fantasies were much bigger. He wanted more than a weekend, a night, with Armie. Before, those imaginings had been based on appearance, and professional respect. Now...now that he _knew_ Armie, for real...they were based on so much more. 

But Armie didn’t want that. He got what he wanted, to sleep with Tim. When they got back to New York, he’d probably want Tim to keep quiet about the weekend. Which was fine, Tim planned to do that anyway. He wondered if Armie would acknowledge his presence or would continue to keep his distance, the way he’d—

Tim’s thoughts ground to a halt, and he stared at himself in the mirror. Why had Armie kept his distance? For seven years? Was it because he found Tim attractive and didn’t want to deal with it? Only, Tim realized, he _hadn’t_ kept his distance, not really. 

Something started to tumble around in Tim’s stomach and chest, and his breath went erratic. 

_Okay_ , he told himself. _Cut it out, you’re a lawyer. Look at the evidence._

One. Armie had been into Tim since his _interview_. And had been willing to admit that. 

Two. Last night, when Tim had said that he had been equally into Armie, Armie had seemed interested in that fact. 

Three. Despite being outwardly distant, Armie had kept tabs on Tim. He was aware of his work, his accomplishments...but more than that he knew something about Tim’s routine, like the gym. He’d been paying attention. 

Four. When Armie had walked into the room at the auction and saw Tim, he’d shut down. At the time Tim had thought it was disappointment; now...he thought maybe it was a defense. To not let on his real feelings, much like Tim was doing. 

Five. Armie hadn’t let Tim wiggle out of the weekend, moving things around to make sure it could happen. And when he thought Tim didn’t want to go because he didn’t want to be around _Armie_ , he’d backed off and seemed...sad. 

Six. Armie had spent the weekend getting to know Tim, asking lots of questions and seeming to actually want to know the answers. 

Seven. They were here, in Armie’s house. A place he’d never even told anyone else he owned. And they’d had what could only be described as a romantic evening ending in the best…

Tim whirled around and marched out of the bathroom. He found Armie sitting up in bed, his back against the headboard, staring at his hands. 

“Why am I here?” Tim asked abruptly.

“What? Tim...do you want coffee? I could—“

“Answer the question,” Tim said. “Why am I here, in your house?”

Armie made a _what do you want me to say_ gesture with his hands. “I told you. I thought you’d like it better than the airport hotel.”

“You could have fucked me just as easily at a hotel and I’d have never known the difference,” Tim said. “Why did you want me here?”

“It’s more comfortable?” Armie said. 

“Is that an answer or a question?”

Armie rolled his eyes. “I’m not a witness you’re cross-examining. You don’t have to—“

“Armie. You own a beautiful vacation home that no one in the fucking world knows about because you’re so damned private and don’t want anyone to spoil it. So I’m going to ask again. Why. Am. I. Here?”

Armie sighed, and then raised his gaze to Tim’s. “I...wanted the first time to be special.”

“I wasn’t a virgin, Armie, you didn’t have to—“

“Not your first time. _Our_ first time.” Armie shook his head. “Maybe it was dumb, but I wanted to see you here, in this space. And I wanted you to see it, because it’s a piece of me. Okay?”

Tim stared at Armie, and hope began to bloom under his skin from his toes to his eyelashes. 

“Our... _first_ time?” he asked quietly. “Does that mean you want there to be a second? A third?”

There was a long moment where they just watched each other. Tim’s chest rose and fell, and he was tingling. He wanted to climb back into bed and throw himself on Armie with glee, because, like any good lawyer, he already knew the answer to his question. He _knew_. 

So when Armie said, “I’m hoping there’ll be hundreds of other times. Thousands,” Tim was already grinning. 

“That means...this isn’t over when we leave? You want to keep...when we get back, you want to see me again?”

“Of course I do,” Armie said. “But only if that’s what you want, too. And if you don’t, if you just wanted the weekend and now I’m out of your system, I told you already that you don’t have to worry about it impacting your career. I won’t hold it against you, and I _mmmph_.”

Tim was already straddling Armie and kissing him like he was a lifeline. Armie’s arms came around him and pulled him close, and when they broke apart for air, he smiled. 

“Is that a yes?” Armie asked. 

“Yes,” Tim confirmed with a laugh. “Armie, when the auctioneer said _going, going, gone?_ I was already gone.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Against my better judgment I already have a sequel planned for these two. I won’t start it until after I’ve closed out another couple of WIPs, but it’s on the horizon! I hope you’re as happy about that as I am...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm onlyastoryteller on Tumblr if you need to yell at me.


End file.
